Of the Stolen
by DemiLizard
Summary: Centuries after Spyro, the Dragon Realms have changed. A gang of thieves lurk beneath the city of Firemore, led by The Red Rodent—Roland, a young dragon. To them, the purple dragon, the first in five hundred years, is yet another thief. But when an assassination sets ruinous events into motion, they may find themselves pitted against the most powerful creature known to dragonkind.
1. A Thief's Beginning

A Thief's Beginning

Amber light glinted upon the stone streets of Firemore, the setting sun tempting the night to swallow the city. The street lamps, however, flickered on at that moment, warding away the darkness encroaching. Technology, truly a marvel. What a thing it could do with five hundred years. Burning spirit gems, light and electricity coursed around every block.

While most paid little attention to the awakening of the lights, one red dragon noted the time. Underneath the daylight, hidden from view, when he wasn't busy, he generally weaved his claw around a page, inky vial by his flank, writing whatever came to mind. Settings, characters of his own creation. An aspiring author.

There was more to it than that, however. The second phase of his day, nightfall. The red dragon exhaled. Nearly caught so many times, and had been once or twice. Thrown into a cell, idly wasting away the days by himself. They could never keep him for long, though. The Dragon Realms had laws that made living his life easier.

The guards were serious about keeping this city lawful. And, well, he could admit they did a good job. They tried to place him inside an orphanage and offer him schooling once or twice, but he ran far from the rickety old hag and the freakish children there. They'd lost hope in him long ago, but they knew it was against the laws of the Dragon Realms to banish a young dragon such as he.

Plenty tried to keep well away from him. They knew who he was. The whole market square knew. The Red Rodent, they'd call him, a popular name amongst the denizens of the city.

It didn't matter much. As despised as he was for his _profession,_ nobody ever seemed to notice his claws descending upon their hinds. Every reaction was priceless. Even if nine times out of ten he was caught in the act and almost captured once more, that alone was worth it. And so were the riches.

He hadn't been captured for a long time now. He was proud of that. Sometimes, though, it just felt like it was too easy.

Hours into the night, the red dragon stalked the streets. Watchful eyes fell to bleak shadows. He sniffed the air, as though he were a predator.

Then, his prayers were answered. A dragon of around the same height as he wandered past, eyes startled by something. Like an anxious sheep, the green dragoness seemed. Her eyes almost caught his own gaze, but he was quick to back into the shadows. The girl seemed familiar, but he couldn't place a claw on it. Perhaps another he'd stolen from before. Despite the lighting, Firemore was a dim city.

Beneath street lights she roamed, shadows dancing along her body, but the red dragon's only focus was on the purse slapping her side, jingling. Her appearance would only matter when she realised she'd had her copper stolen.

As soon as she turned, the red dragon scampered along the streets, paws as quiet as the heart beating in his chest. He caught up to her as she was about to turn down an alleyway.

He felt pity for her, knowing not what he was about to do. He jumped to the roof of a building, golden eyes trailing her, until she stopped. Then, paws outstretched, he leaped from the rooftops, a shadowed blur amongst the midnight.

The dragoness didn't see him. He grinned a devious smirk as he descended upon her.

And then, without warning, the dragoness shifted to the right. He didn't notice in time. Stomach-first, he landed on the pebbled pathways.

He thought he heard a snicker beside him, but he was far too focused on his loss of breath. He quickly jumped up to make a break for it, vision washed in colours. He felt the familiar stone of the buildings against his face and once more toppled over, his mind swirling.

"You oughta step up your game, Roland."

He knew the voice. Familiar, and surprisingly playful. She sounded blissfully unaware of the pain rocketing through his form. As his mind came to, he made out the face of a young dragoness he did happen to know. He spoke, voice hoarse.

"M-Myrtle?"

"No, the fuckin' Ancestors. Who _else_ , Roland? And why are you playin' games with me all of a sudden?"

Her voice dripped with playful sarcasm. There was no mistaking it then. It definitely was Myrtle. How had he not made out her features before, especially with that distinctive scar stretching across her eyes? He decided to blame it on the poor lighting, but even that seemed far-fetched. Was his vision failing him? He was only fifteen!

"I'm– Ouch." Roland gritted his teeth. "I feel like I... I just broke every bone in my body."

Myrtle's green eyes narrowed in scrutiny. Realisation dawned on her face. "Oh... shit, you're bleeding. You didn't actually slam into the ground just now, did you? I thought you would've tried to stop yourself."

"I was a bit reckless, I guess... Ouch." A narrow smile spread across his face; it disappeared a moment later as he winced.

"You are the stupidest dragon I've ever met, mistakin' me for some _random_ dragoness." She rolled her eyes, head shaking. "But hey, we love you all the same." She held out her paw and he took it. "Let's get you back and cleaned up."

* * *

"Bloody hell, Roland... I didn't think you were _that_ dumb."

Roland nodded. "Yeah, I've already been told I'm stupid several times by Myrtle, Seth."

The burly brown dragon in front of him creased his brow; Myrtle looked as though she was trying not to laugh, sitting in the corner of the little stone room everyone had worked together to build beneath Firemore's waterways. Sure, the air smelt of sewage – and so did they all – but Roland loved their base of operations and his little family.

"Sure, you might've done some stupid things before, but this takes the cake."

Seth, two years older than he, laughed over the story, but his face was every bit serious now. He jabbed Roland in his bandaged gut a few times, to which Roland cringed. Sending a message, clearly. "Next time, don't almost kill yourself. You could've easily broken a few bones slamming into the concrete like that, and our stock of spirit gems hasn't been very high, because of that thief."

"I'll try," he said, rubbing his grazed stomach, giggling. "But I can't guarantee anything."

Seth exhaled. "Whatever. Before you go to bed, could you pay that new blue girl a visit? She's been real shy and you're probably the friendliest dragon we have.

"What about me?" Myrtle asked, grin unwavering. "I'm friendly too."

"Yeah, but you'd probably exhaust her with your incessant babbling. You're annoying sometimes, Myrtle."

"You definitely prefer Roland over me, don't y-"

"Shut up." Seth turned his attention to the red dragon. "Anyway, go and see her, Roland. I saw her in Pipe C when I was coming back. Maybe she's still around."

Roland nodded, turning away. "Yeah, I'm on it." With a flick of his tail, he shut the door behind him.

Until a few years ago, he'd found the pipelines tedious to navigate, but time had passed and he enjoyed roaming the lonely, sprawling tubes constructed by the moles. The stench he was used to by now – once it felt as though his nostrils were deteriorating, but, in an odd sense, it had become homely. Crossing the makeshift bridges they'd hastily put together, he fancied peering into the murky waters staring back at him. He often spoke to the others on the way, but they were slumbering elsewhere, and so he had himself to focus on.

He studied himself once more, stepping onto a board lying across the gap. His red and grey scales remained flecked with a deeper scarlet of his own, but it blended in enough for him to not mind. They were chipped and damaged, unpolished and neglected, but... he did prefer it that way. It gave him that "rough" sort of look, he felt, made him seem tougher than he really was. Unfortunately, his unnaturally scrawny frame didn't do the look he wished for any justice. Sometimes, when he hadn't eaten for just a few days, he could see a rib teetering on the edge of being visible through his scales.

He was prideful of his horns, however; four beams of lustrous gold that curled back ever so slightly. A number of spines of the same luxurious shade ran along his back to the tip of his tail, a wicked blade – or it would've been if he'd sharpened it. The only dragon amongst the vast pipelines who did sharpen it was that new girl, the blue dragoness. A sharp tail blade was more of a fashion statement than anything. Most here didn't care for looks, but she liked hers.

Well, he couldn't really blame her. She was _kinda_ pretty...

He stopped in his tracks, turning towards the pipe labelled 'C', the crude letter gouged into the steel via heated claw. Not his own doing. That was another dragon's work, his best friend's. His appearance could fool others into thinking he was a fire dragon, but he wasn't sure what he was. Fifteen years old, and he still hadn't discovered it. His element was unknown to him.

He wished he could know. The others teased him for it. It'd been hurtful once, but he'd since grown accustomed to the unoriginal and generic insults they hurled his way. At least most only joked about it.

He spotted the blue dragoness just ahead; her tail jutted out of a small incline she'd hidden herself inside. Roland lifted a brow and padded over.

She was fiddling with something inside. He wondered what was so important she had to keep it hidden away.

"Hey there," he said in the friendliest tone he could muster – which also happened to be loud. She jumped like she'd been bitten and whatever she held in her paws went careening through the air into the sewer water behind them.

She looked back, mouth agape, running towards the edge of the pathway, azure eyes scanning the liquid. "Oh, crap! Crap, crap, _crap..."_

"Oh, shit. I'm sorry." He ran towards where he last saw it flying. Beneath the muddy liquid, however, he couldn't spot whatever it had been. "I didn't mean to–"

"You have _no idea_ what you just lost in there!" the dragoness yelled, maw dripping with poison. "Who the hell just walks up behind people and yells–"

"U-um, gimme a sec," he said, intervening before she decked him one. "Lemme get it."

As he said he would, he dove beneath the waves of sewage water, not giving it any thought. Whatever the hell the residents of Firemore ate stung his eyes and nostrils, but underneath the bleary waters was what she'd been holding. He grasped the glimmering piece between his claws. A golden ring, and fixed to a small socket was a sapphire that shimmered even beneath these waters.

Roland clambered out of the waterways, holding the ring above his head. The blue dragoness looked thankful, but still she seemed peeved off. That, and she was astonished he'd simply dive into sewage.

"Sorry about that..." The red dragon held it out for her, and her aggressive paws snatched it back. "I... d-did say I was sorry."

"And if you are, you won't forget to be fucking careful next time!" she added. Roland attempted to remain stoic, but he backed off as she glared at him, her expression disapproving. His features drooped of their own accord. It didn't help that she looked far stronger than he.

"Just don't be so damn sudden..."

"Yeah, I... understand." He couldn't quite find his voice. Two imbecilic things he'd done today, and it'd only been mere hours after midnight. How many more things would he get wrong...?

"...N-Now you're making me feel bad." A thin smile spread across her face. "I'm kinda surprised you dove into... you know, crap, to get it back, but thanks, I guess."

"You're welcome. I'll just... leave you alone now. Sorry..." He turned to pad away, but the girl's tone spoke otherwise.

"...N-no, stay." Her eyes were fixed on his. Roland cocked his head leftward. "I-I know it was an accident. I'm sorry for yelling. The ring... It just means a lot to me. What did you want?"

He sat on his haunches, legs exhausted. At least she'd calmed, and quickly too. "I was just saying hi. Seth wanted me to greet you properly. I mean, we don't even know your name yet. After Leurona brought you in, you sort of just hopped off elsewhere. But that's okay. I was pretty shy when I started meeting people here."

"I'm sorry. I... haven't really gotten around to introducing myself yet." Her voice shook ever so slightly. Enraged one moment, then back to her usual shy self. The golden ring must've been important to her. "My name's Ashlyn."

"Roland." He held out his paw. Ashlyn nearly took it, but screwed up her face and drew hers away.

"Um, I-I hope you don't mind, Roland..."

"O-oh, yeah, certainly not," he laughed. "I need to have a bath that isn't, you know, in the sewer waters."

Ashlyn noted the stench permeating his body then and there, putting a paw over her nostrils. She grinned, however. "Yeah, you kind of reek..."

"Well, you better get used to it. Those white horns won't shine forever if you're down here, Ashlyn."

"That's a challenge I'm willing to accept," she said, a spark of confidence in her voice. She quickly lost it though. "We'll, uh... see."

Roland grinned, then turned his eyes to the ceiling. "Um... So, how's the weather?"

"You... you aren't very good at sparking a conversation..."

"Well, not when I feel like crap!" He chuckled. "I've already jumped off a building today... And now my bandages are sopping. And now my cuts are probably going to get infected. Woo, this day keeps getting worse!"

It was Ashlyn's turn to cock her head. "How did you manage that?"

"Eh, long story short, I miscalculated a jump and mistook a friend for a potential target, and then she moved and I winded myself on the concrete."

Unlike Myrtle after helping him up, Ashlyn's face showed genuine concern. "Does it still hurt? And... what do you mean target?"

"Nah, only stinging." He patted his stomach to relieve her concerns, but the motion only made him flinch. "And we're thieves, if you didn't know. We steal to get around, but never too much."

"Oh... okay. Not as bad as..." she muttered the rest of her words.

"Not as bad as what?"

"N-nothing, don't worry." She got to her feet and made for her little incline again. "Anyway, I'll see you around, Roland. Thanks for saying hi. I do appreciate it. I probably would've been too scared to say hi myself." She snickered.

"You're welcome. You don't sound _that_ shy, but try not to be. We're all nice around here."

"W-well, you should be more _careful,_ " she jested. "I'll... see you around? I've got some ring polishing to do."

"Of course, if you intend on staying around." He patted her back with his wing. "See ya later."

And then she walked off. She seemed nice. Roland delved into his mind to figure out what her last, strangely foreboding words were, trying to read the motion of her muzzle, but couldn't find the answers he wished for. He was certain she'd open up sooner or later and give up her timidness. But other than that – and the incident with her ring – he felt their interaction had gone pretty well. He'd tell Seth, but he was too tired for it.

After diving into the seas for a quick wash to get any loose sewage off of his body, he made his way to his room, a smaller room connected to the others. Unlike many of the people here, he had his own bed – stole it himself, of course (how he carried a bed was a story for a different day) –, a chest of drawers, and a little golden lamp. Most rooms were plain, except for the occasional pillow or basket strewn about. He took to decorating it though. What he scribbled down in the mornings he pasted above his bedhead so he could read and criticise his work as he entered.

The lamp upon the drawers flickered; he'd forgotten to blow it out, and its oil had run dry. Most had electric ones nowadays, but he liked the antique. He'd have to thieve more oil later. Laying beside the firelight, jotting down stories... Enticing as it was, his eyes could barely keep open at this rate.

He grabbed the tip of his velvet sheet and climbed inside. He lay relaxing for a moment before exhaustion pulled him from reality.

* * *

"Hey. Hey, Roly. Wake up."

Groggily, the red dragon opened his eyes. "Mmmm... What?"

"You need to check this out. It's really weird."

Roland looked to his set of drawers, checking the golden pocket watch ticking away atop it. Squinting, he realised it was four in the morning.

"Drevon, what are you doing up at this time?"

Drevon's features were difficult to make out, but Roland could spot the obvious smile cracking his face. "I couldn't sleep. I had a weird dream, so I went outside, and low and behold there's this _thing_ flying through the sky. I dunno what it is, and I don't think it's a dragon."

Curiosity piqued, Roland raised a brow. "Are you sure you aren't just seeing things? I mean, you have been saying you've had weird hallucinations. You've been getting me to look at things a lot lately."

"No, I'm serious," the dragon said. "Those usually go away after a while – even I thought I was just seeing things again, but there's actually something really weird out there. Quick, it might've already gone away!"

Drevon raced out of his room, skidding and scampering down the corridors. Roland, meanwhile, exhaled and climbed out of bed, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He didn't know how one dragon could be so energetic.

He approached the balcony beyond Pipe A, the exit and entrance to their base in Firemore's waterways, and one such exit – if a little unrealistic – to the city. Swallowed by the gloom, he could barely make out Drevon's form, but his violet eyes shined despite the darkness. The stars and the celestial moons painted the sky in a palette of reds and greens that transfixed the pair. Often if Roland couldn't sleep he'd gaze upon them, studying the patterns they weaved across the sky's canvas. It was a place of peace for him.

"You see that thing up there?"

Roland leaned closer to the dragon beside him. The moons remained as mesmerising as ever; there was nothing out of the ordinary. "No, I don't... Are you _sure_ you're not–"

"No, bud, I'm not. Look closer. It's right there, in the centre of the red moon."

Roland turned to the larger of the twin moons. He narrowed his eyes. It was a beautiful thing, an orb of velvety red studying the world below it. That was normal, but Roland did happen to see what in particular Drevon was speaking of.

Something distant, flying in aimless circles. Its wings were large, but that was about all he could see. He assumed it was a dragon. However, no dragon would ever fly so high, especially at this time...

"See it now?"

"You actually aren't crazy for once, Drevon." He grinned. Drevon snickered in response. "There is something up there. Probably just some loony, though. Why he's up so high is weird."

"Yeah, I know, right?" Drevon pointed to the thing's oddly shaped wings. As Roland scrutinised the figure more, he realised the thing didn't have paws like a dragon either, and instead simple claws attached to its wings. It was like a wyvern in that sense, but they hadn't been around for years. "I don't think it's a dragon, though. What do you think it is?"

Roland didn't know much about animals, but even he knew this creature's size and proportions were off. He couldn't place a claw on it. "If it's not some weirdo dragon, I have no clue."

There came a screech, faint but clearly audible. He felt Drevon shiver next to him, as though in fear. "U-Um, yeah, I don't think that's a dragon, Roly."

"No..." A droplet landed on the tip of Roland's snout. He pawed it away, noting the change in weather. "Seems like it's gonna start raining. We should head back in... and you should go to bed."

A flash of lightning, a crackling boom, filled the air. Drevon's purple scales blinked under the light. Roland had heard stories of purple dragons and definitely believed them. Heroic, powerful saviours born of prophecy. But, although Drevon had the elements of a purple dragon – fire, earth, ice and lightning – he was anything but heroic and powerful. He was kind and humble, and he enjoyed life without having to worry over if he was some super special dragon. While usually people would remember the face the of a purple dragon, and loathe them, on account of what happened centuries ago, nobody seemed to remember Drevon, despite the festival held in Firemore. It was really only the Guardians that paid him any mind, though they didn't know where he was. People forgot about Drevon and the stories of purple dragons committing heinous acts of evil.

Roland remained confused over his appearance. The purple dragons were destined for greatness, but Drevon seemed as normal as any other resident of Firemore, apart from the shimmering purple scales. Drevon had been brought in, lost on the streets, and ever since had lived peacefully with the rest of them. At least, that was what he told Roland. Roland had been too young to know about the birth of the purple dragon at the time. Only a single year old, back when he lived with his parents.

Roland thought it was pretty nifty they lived with a purple dragon, though. Who would've thought such a powerful dragon would come to their humble guild of thieves?

"Yeah, let's go." Drevon, surprisingly, paced back inside. Roland looked to the red moon once more, but the figure had vanished. He frowned before following him through.

Roland caught up with the purple dragon, and after sharing farewells for the night, he clambered into his bed again, cosy beneath the covers. Whatever the creature had been kept him up for a good few minutes

Abnormal wings, and a shriek that pierced the heavens. It affected Drevon, surely, by the way he shivered. Such a strange little thing soaring amongst the stars, as though peering down upon the landscape. The thought of a freakish creature unknown to him made him uneasy.

"...Eh, maybe some huge bird in the sky isn't _too_ much to worry about."


	2. Dread from Above

Dread from Above

"You took it first!"

"Well, I own it!"

"Own it? You don't own nothin'!"

Roland groaned, shoving his face into the torn pillows of his bed. The two voices beyond his room had been at it for several minutes now; he was hoping the argument between the young pair would cease quickly. He should've known better than to think two children would suddenly stop arguing over something as infantile as a mere cheetah plush.

He blinked several times, exhaustion like lead upon his eyes. He brushed the greasy frills back atop his skull and shambled away from bed. After this morning's last drowse, he was hoping he could at least get some sleep, but the fatigue posing upon his shoulders last night lingered still.

Outside, the pair of dragons squabbled over the little thing. Carolin, the dragoness to the left, held the puppet between her paws protectively. Weird of her to be arguing over something. The two didn't notice him walk into their little spat.

"Could you two can it?" he asked as politely as his hoarse voice would allow him. The green dragoness, Carolin, looked at him and smiled apologetically. The other fire dragon, however, tried to snatch the puppet out of her paws after Roland's words, and the two continued to bicker.

"Holy shit, kids, would you both _settle down_?" His voice more forceful, the other dragon heard him this time.

"S-sorry, Rolan'," the orange dragon said, tone sickly sweet. He recognised the kid as Kage. "But she's trying to steal Mr. Fluffles!"

" _Steal_ it?" Carolin was clearly bewildered. "I own it! How can I steal something I own?"

"You don't own it!"

"Yes, I do!"

"Have you kids ever heard of the saying 'honour among thieves?" Roland asked, quietly laughing despite his irritation. The two both shook their heads. "It means we _don't steal from each other._ Why don't you both, I dunno, share it instead?"

"But it _is_ mine and..." Carolin trailed off.

"Well, honestly, it's not." He gave her a crooked grin. Carolin pouted over his jest.

"SEE? _"_ Realisation dawned on the other kid's face, and Roland knew his joke had come at the expense of worsening the argument. "It _isn't_ yours!"

"Oh, Ancestors..." he cursed.

"Having trouble with the kids, bud?"

Roland locked eyes with the purple dragon behind him, goofy grin stretched across his muzzle. Roland couldn't help but smile. "No, of _course_ not..."

The two behind him continued to argue; Roland couldn't concentrate on the babyish reasoning they gave. "Why don't you let me deal with 'em?" Drevon whispered. "You can go back to bed if you want, Roly."

"Ugh. I'm already up, what's the point?" Roland rubbed the sleep from his eyes. "I've got a few things I want to do today, might as well get them done early. And I would appreciate you doing this, but Carolin's your sister. You'd be a bit biased."

"No, I'm all for being fair."

"Yeah, like how you were _fair_ in that paw wrestle yesterday."

"Shut up, I'm totally fair." Drevon grinned. He moved past the red dragon without waiting for his word and looked down upon the kids. Carolin looked to her older brother with surprise; because he'd gotten up early, no doubt. Everyone around here, despite resorting to thievery, remained laid back. They had a more than enough to survive, and nobody knew they were here. Sometimes, it didn't even seem like the guards were trying to search for them, as if they were laid-back as well. He always thought they did a good job, though.

Roland left Drevon to deal with the pointless bickering, too weary to care any longer. He guessed 'resorting to thievery' was kind of the wrong phrase. Many probably could be doing other things: receiving an education at the orphanage, heading on to a career later in life that would earn them some copper. But no, most here simply enjoyed the life of stealing. He and Seth had started their underground network of thieves here together, then Myrtle came along one day (ironically because she'd been stolen from by him), and then their 'guild of thieves' kind of just _grew_.

Like a stream, they came one by one. A lot of them looked up to this kid they'd heard being called the Red Rodent. He guessed they loathed the old hag in the orphanage as much as he did.

He remembered the names of around twenty of those kids living inside the waterways and on the streets, coming back to share their spoils, but he knew there were a few more than that, those few that didn't speak and kept strictly to themselves. He didn't mind their presence, though. The more the merrier, he always said to Seth, who didn't like the quiet types. And, well, the more to add to their collection of trinkets, food, and curiosities. As shocking as it may have seemed, an amount of spirit gems had been stolen from them. There had been a bit of a betrayal earlier in the week. Seth was intent on figuring out who it was. Thankfully, it hadn't been too much, but it was a bit of a scare.

Roland stepped across the platform again, studying his shadow against the cylindrical wall in the lamplight. It moved like a beast shambling beside him. He stopped and stood on two feet for a moment, like the cheetahs and moles, and quietly snickered at his abnormally long neck curling around the pipe. "And I thought the others were childish," he muttered after.

He'd thought the electricity coursing around the sewers was weird when he first came down here. Later, he'd realised they were for maintenance work – some of his favourite moments were when the adults came for an examination of the waterways; hiding amongst the pipelines and watching them choke up at the smell was always hilarious, in spite of the growing number of times he'd seen it.

He turned the corner into pipe B, the dirtiest and smelliest of all the pipes; it was known for its 'blockages' after all, and that was where the 'B' came from. He wasn't surprised to see Myrtle huddled around a crude map of an area they'd drawn upon an oaken stool, houses they wished to raid dotted along its rough surface, but Ashlyn conversing with her about the plans was a change of pace. He hadn't actually expected the timid dragoness to introduce herself so swiftly.

"...like, this one's the cool one. The guy has a collection of frickin' gold– Oh, hey, Roland. Come over here and listen." Myrtle waved at him; he jogged over.

He knelt down. "How's the planning going?"

"Good. Just explaining what we have to Ashlyn." She pointed towards the big red dot on the page; it was only a fraction bigger than the others, but Roland knew the place nonetheless. "I wanna save that one for last. It looks like it's gonna be the most exciting... How's ya tummy, by the way?"

He'd since removed the sopping bandages; they weren't comfortable to sleep in. "Still a little grazed, but I think I'll be fine. Be my cushion next time, will you?"

"Yeah, I'll be the cushion you impale yourself on, sure." She pointed to the curved brown spines upon her back. Roland only smirked. "Anyway, we're not exactly desperate for gold – actually turning it in for copper is troublesome in and of itself, and it's not like we're running low or anything."

"Oh, I know a guy," Ashlyn said, quite surprisingly. People dealing in precious substances were difficult to come by; it wasn't profitable, considering almost nobody managed to come by such things. Earth dragons and moles, with their lust for wealth, mined every known location of precious ore and mineral. Even Roland, a thief no less, hadn't such greed to reap the earth of its now lacking resources.

The mining of copper though was their primary objective, not gold. An ore with two stunning properties – it was malleable and a great conductor of spirit power. They liked it so much that it was fused into the chain-link steel armour the guards of Firemore donned. He'd read that in a book he'd stolen once. The 'copper' the Dragon Realms called their currency was also made of the material.

"You know someone?" Myrtle spoke next. Ashlyn quickly took it back.

"Well... I-I did."

"Oh, don't get my hopes up like that, blue girl." Ashlyn flinched as Myrtle's paw playfully connected with her shoulder. "What, did he die or something?"

"No, he... went away."

"Where to? Is he close?"

"I... I don't know." Ashlyn shrugged. The green dragoness' face soured for a moment, but she was smiling again in a jiffy. "Anyway, when are you guys... _we_ doing this?"

"Eh... Probably soon. We're gonna start with that one _there._ " She pointed to the red dot; barely recognisable, the dot was stashed away in the corner of the map. The most boring of the homes. Roland did enjoy working his way up to the more difficult, tedious missions – if you could call them _missions_ – as time progressed, however. It made the later rewards more satisfying. And, like gold, it wasn't as though they were running desperately low on other supplies. It'd be a nice one to run Ashlyn through what they would do, anyway. Even the thieves of the waterways had rules they needed to follow.

"So you made the decision without me?" He would've told her their first target was the blandest of the homes anyhow. Strange ways, he knew, but he liked them. If he hadn't been here, like all those years ago, his incentives would've varied. "Kinda rude, but..."

"I thought you would agree." Myrtle leaned in, tongue poking through her muzzle slightly. "Not like _you_ to fight me over something, no-breath."

"Ha ha, very original, moss-brains," he countered, drawing his face closer to hers. Myrtle's grin widened.

"Lanky."

"Bird-snout."

"Knuckle-head _."_

"Scar-face _."_

"By Ignitus, you guys." Ashlyn chortled. "I hope I don't have to get used to this. Y-you're like children."

"We _are_ children," the bickerers expressed in unison. "Wow, nice timing. Holy shit..."

Roland and Myrtle couldn't help cracking up. The blue dragoness only shook her head.

"A-anyway," Myrtle said between breaths, picking up her map and stuffing it into the satchel by her flank, "I have some stuff to do, some stuff to clean, some stuff to steal. I'll see you guys later. Nice meetin' ya properly, Ashlyn."

"You too!" She waved, as did he. The dragoness turned to him a moment later, and the two began walking down the pipelines. "You were right about meeting people, Roland. I was planning on just, you know, sitting around by myself, but I guess it'd be nice to have some acquaintances..."

He nudged her gently. "We're all friends here. I have no doubt you'll fit in well."

"Haven't really had the chance to make friends with anyone before," she said. "Thanks, though."

"Well, you can chill out." At his words, the blue dragoness laughed. He wondered why for a moment. "I... Oh, very funny."

"I _am_ an ice dragon. I'd like to think I'm automatically pretty chill," she said. "W-well, unless you throw my ring in the sewers."

"You ever gonna let me live that one down?" he asked.

"You dived into... well, shit, just for me. Of course I'm not, smelly."

"Great." He held his head high, feigning annoyance.

"O-oh, uh... i-if you don't mind, of cou–"

He snickered, beaming. "No, no. It's fine. I deserve it anyway."

"Th-then... prepare to be made fun of, I guess!"

"We'll see, Ash."

Roland led them around the the corner to the exit. Just beneath the pipe's ceiling, he could spot the sun. He'd forgotten about it for a moment, but all the weight of his exhaustion came tumbling down upon him then. He exhaled, stretching his ligaments as though a hound.

"I didn't say it before, but you look really tired."

"Yeah, rough night sleeping. I was woken up by two kids arguing over a toy. But you've got nothing to worry about. I'm fine."

She cocked her head; her concern was almost mother-like. Strange, considering she'd known him since yesterday. "You sure? It's not often you see black rings under a dragon's eyes. Why don't you head back to bed?"

He peered into the waters below him. His form was wavy and difficult to decipher, but she wasn't wrong. The coiling darkness clashed with the red of his scales.

"...No." As inviting as the warm confines of his bed seemed, there were items on his agenda that needed tending to. He gave her the warmest look he could muster. "Don't be concerned. I might be tired, but it's not going to stop me. Besides, I've got some things to do today."

Her face revealed she was displeased with his response, but she nodded despite it. "Well, take it easy, then. I'll see you around?"

"Yeah, definitely." He leaped to the edge of the pipe, where the ground fell into a cliff, the northern Salamander Sea stretching beyond it. "Talk to you later."

Then, beating his wings, he took off. He rejoiced in the rushing of the wind on his scales, inhaling the salty air. Sure, he'd gotten used to the stench within the sewers, but never did he ever want to stay there. He preferred this, just outside the city. He would've loved to always be out here, breeze caressing his scales.

An impossibility. He thought no longer of it, and with his sights on Firemore, approached the Dragon Realms' second greatest city.

* * *

The setting sun didn't leave Roland much time to enjoy his other hobby. He weaved a claw upon the yellowed page within an alleyway, slouching up against a dumpster. He'd smelt worse than the stench that pervaded his nostrils. In fact, it even gave him ideas; he converted that scent to the reeking miasma of a beast clawing through rock to decimate the characters of his own creation. A golden dragoness, and her sidekick, Gerald, were triumphant in the end, however.

He laughed at the joke he weaved into the story after the death of the beast, claw scribbling wildly upon the page as his chest heaved. Then he grumbled, realising he'd ruined all he'd written. Not dissuaded, though, he started again. Some day he'd get this book published, and then he could hoard the rewards and praise of his masterwork.

"You know, if they would actually accept somebody as hated as me..."

He placed the crinkled paper upon his chest before resting his head against the dumpster. He lifted the stolen apple pie beside him and took a nibble. Familiar. In some ways, it was perfect. In others, it sorrowed him ever so slightly.

"This really is the life..."

Getting away from his parents had probably been the best decision he'd ever made.

He felt a twinge of guilt then, but never did it last long. He had been the one that caused all this, but how could he unhappy when life was ideal after doing so? He had friends – no, a family. He had everything he desired. He could do whatever he pleased and _almost_ always get away with it.

But he did miss them still. It rang true. Despite it all, he never could forget about them.

He remembered his father the most. A giant of a dragon, clearly of the earth variety, brown scales from head to toe, horns like a ram's, tail blade smooth and club-like. He'd once been able to mistake the dragon for dirt because of his colour, but his soul had glimmered like diamond. That smile, though faded in his mind over time like a passing breath, remained as inviting, comfortable, joyous as ever. He'd never forget the times they shared. He'd never forget that gravelly tone. His laugh he could remember like it was only yesterday.

At least, that was what he was like, just around him.

His mother was a different story. His father was always different if she was around. He was cold. He wasn't... _good_ , like he remembered from his earlier years.

Roland could memorise the melancholy sketched across his mother's features, and even that memory was as misty as the ice she once summoned. That was all. She'd always been upset, succumbing to her own thoughts, as though they were murdering her from the inside out, wearing away at her thin body. He'd ran the first time then. He was scared for her. He believed it was he causing her problems, causing her attenuated, drooping figure, like his. There had been days before he'd met Seth, before they'd constructed their little band of thieves, that he'd wanted to go back. But he was sure his mother had been better off without him. All of that had been his fault.

" _They're gone now, Roland. Don't worry about them anymore. Do you want to be happy, or do you want to go back to more of her?"_

They never were and never would be, he'd told Seth. Maybe she'd changed, he'd told Seth, although he scarcely believed it.

One time, he had gone back, off his sorry arse to see them once more, a hope flickering in his chest. The inviting smell of the apple pie baking inside... Enticing, but never did he go inside their old spire again. Seth had approached him then, too.

" _He... hates you, Roland. He doesn't want you anymore. It's... It's not your fault._

He'd heard his father then; faint sobbing. He knew what had happened, what he'd done. His mother, that dissolving soul, evaporated that night.

He didn't leave before he'd seen her, though. He wanted one last look at her. In ways, he wished he hadn't sought after her. It didn't take long before he laid eyes on her through the lighted window, past his father.

She was limp and her eyes were milky. Like a doll, as though she'd never lived in the first place. He couldn't recognise her face anymore. Broken by her element; an icicle as long as her figure impaled the mind once killing her. She'd succumbed to herself.

And he knew he was to blame then and there, that he never should've left. She'd been holding onto him, and then, when he was gone... He never spoke to his father again after all that. Even seen him again. Roland assumed he was just dead.

He rubbed his eyes. He looked at his claw, a droplet resting upon its tip. The tears didn't come most days, thinking of his parents as he did.

He missed them, wanted them back, but they were dead. They were but memories, like embers, glowing until the time came for them to die, and many more to replace them. His hope was lost within the embers. They were nothing more.

"You feeling okay, Roland?"

It wasn't usually Seth that approached him. Seth wasn't one for emotions. Roland could sympathise with the earth dragon, knowing he'd been through something... _similar_ in nature.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just thinking about... ugh."

"You need to let go of them." For such a large, loud dragon, he was surprisingly soft-spoken. Roland had heard his words before, however.

"I-I know, I just can't help it," he said. "It's my fault."

"No, it's hers, and I've always said this," he argued. "It's not your fault she was too selfish and... well, honestly kind of fucked in the head to take care of you. Why don't you listen to me?"

Roland didn't know about any of that. Seth's words were too harsh, but he wouldn't argue. What was the point? He knew there was no convincing himself. He wondered if Seth knew that, too. "Let's just go home. I don't want to talk about this."

"Okay." The brown dragon shrugged and moved off, out of the alleyway. Roland, exhaling, got up.

There came a crack, the splintering of wood, distant yet audible, followed by a dense thud, interrupting his train of thought. Roland jumped in shock, but thought somebody must have just fallen over. Dragons were heavy, after all...

Then, scared like a bird flies, Seth rushed around the corner. He tried to issue a warning, but a screech tore through Roland's ears. Recognisable, from the night before.

Had the creature attacked Firemore?

Seth was on his knees, trembling, fear etched across his face as though he'd seen a sight unholy. Wood was smashed, stone reduced to fragments he saw careening through the air.

Roland wanted to stay back, but his curiosity got the better of him. From behind the corner of the alleyway, through the stalls of the market square, he knew he was seeing the creature he'd seen flittering amongst the night.

Its hulking, hunched body was almost as large as the dragons cowering around the square. An adolescent cheetah hung from its bloodied maw, fangs impaling his small body. It raked at the wood and its victims with the talons on its paws, and soon after, lifted into the skies screaming, beating its wings as the cheetah boy was diced by the two blades inside its mouth. Roland felt caught, like he'd been glued to cobblestone.

It soared across the square as fast as he'd ever seen another creature fly. Even he couldn't outmatch its velocity.

He stood, fear bubbling inside of him, but he found himself not paralysed like the others. Even the dragons, the guards strongest among them, knelt and cowered beneath the savage beast. He couldn't look away, not from the red drenching the ground nor those barely breathing amongst the dead, nor from the monster itself.

Then, its yellow eyes met his gold. He couldn't breathe.

The creature froze, then shrieked once more. Roland snapped out of his bewilderment. He looked back to Seth, who was still recovering from whatever paralysis he'd once been in, before hiding himself again.

He heard the creature descend upon the stone through the screaming of Firemore's denizens. It had full control over whoever it wanted to kill. Roland felt he was next. He tried to stay quiet, but his ragged breaths drew the beast ever nearer. He heard a snort; sniffing at the scent of his blood, he thought.

Talons scraped against stone as the lumbering beast walked towards him. He felt the tears again, threatening to cascade down the bridge of his snout.

He knew he was going to die.

That hadn't set in yet. He only realised it now. This unholy freak of nature was going to be the end of him.

One step closer. It was almost around the corner, before it screamed out once more. Not in use of its unnatural ability to impale its victims mind with fear, but in agony. Dark scarlet flew past him, splattering on the wall of the building beside him. It stuck like paste.

With a guttural roar, the beast made one last move. The cobblestone shook, and the movement stopped, the beast's face landing in front of him, blood oozing down its cheeks. The iron spear piercing its skull was withdrawn, wet with the monster's gore.

Roland stood still, as though frozen in time. The beast's aggressor walked around the corner, a cheetah wearing the armour of Firemore's guard.

"A-are... y-you alright?" the cheetah spoke, distressed. He sounded as though he were in tears. Roland didn't blame him. He was on the verge himself.

But he couldn't speak. He did open his mouth, but he couldn't find the words. Looking back, he saw Seth had left the ground and was flying away, far from whatever hell had been unleashed upon the city here.

And he couldn't blame him. Roland didn't want to be around the monster anymore.

Like Seth, he turned and kicked off forcefully, the guard yelling after him. He didn't hear his words, but he didn't care.

He just wanted to go home.


	3. The Antagonist

The Antagonist

The first face Roland saw was Ashlyn's, staring into the cloudless skies before her. Her eyes met his and he knew she was bewildered. Seth had arrived first, after all.

Roland didn't speak as he landed, uncomfortably shifting past her, lost for words. He could hardly recollect the events in his head. One second, he was behind the wall of a gloomy alleyway, hiding from his encroaching death, the next he was soaring far, far away from the one lone cheetah who'd rescued him, confused, anxious, _fearful_. He'd never seen so much blood before. He didn't remember the faces of any of those slashed down by the monster, just an ocean of scarlet splattering the market square.

"R-Roland, wait up!"

He stopped for a moment, breathing hitched. "Wh-what, Ashlyn?"

"First Seth... now you? What happened back there?" She tilted her head as he turned. He didn't want to worry her. It was only a one-off thing. She'd probably find out later, anyhow.

"It's fine, Ash," he responded, adopting a calmer tone. On the inside, thoughts of the beast plagued him. He shivered. "Our... plans just went bad and now we're here. We were trying to steal something, and–"

"Roland," she intervened, "I might look stupid a lot of the time, but... I-I know you're lying."

He exhaled before beginning to walk on again. Much to his displeasure, Ashlyn trailed behind him. "Seriously, it's nothing."

"Roland, come on. What happened?"

"Ashlyn, just–"

"Would you just tell me!?" she snapped. Roland stopped in his tracks, feeling like he'd leaped out of his own scales. She lowered her voice. "...S-Seth just comes walking past me, doesn't say anything, tears all over his face, and now you won't say anything. Nobody would cry over stealing gone wrong..."

His heart drummed against his rib cage as he thought of the creature. It hadn't felt real at all, like it'd jumped straight out of a book of mythological monsters. Those piercing yellow eyes, those bloodied fangs, that damn _screech_. "I..."

" _I_ what? What did you do, Roland?"

He heard her say that and his will to assume his defence grew. "N-no, I didn't do anything. There was just... There was this huge winged _thing_. I don't know what it was. I don't think anybody knew. But it... killed people, Ashlyn. People fucking died. I've n-never seen so much blood in one place before."

Any fire previously in her eyes dissipated. "Oh... A-are you serious?"

"I didn't want to worry you or anyone else." His head hung as he seated himself on the stone walkway. "It would, like, scream at people and then they'd be overcome with so much fear that it'd paralyse them. I didn't feel it myself, but Seth next to me... I-it was horrifying, anyway."

Ashlyn sat there with him. "Th-that'd explain why he came in crying. You're... You're okay though, right?"

Roland didn't know if he ever would be after that, though he allowed a smile to play on his maw. It wasn't any more than a reassuring smirk, however. "For somebody I only met a little while ago, you seem awfully concerned about me."

"W-well, you looked buggered this morning, and then when you come back home after th-that thing... What do you expect?"

"I understand, Ash." He forced a chuckle. Ashlyn didn't seem to peer through him as if he were a window this time, though. "Anyway, I'm gonna go to bed. I'll probably see you tomorrow."

"You sure you're fine?"

"Yes, Ashlyn, I'll be fine. Don't worry about me." He grinned. "Goodnight."

"Okay," she said. "S-sleep well!"

As he turned the corner, the smile vanished, eyes dropping to the cobble pathway through the metallic pipework. He thought he saw a few of the faces around the pipes nervously glance at him – Kage and another dragoness he knew was nicknamed Trix. Fatigue weighed him down and his mind flared over the atrocity committed within the market square of Firemore. Roland wondered, grimly, if the guard that'd rescued him had been in tears over the cheetah slaughtered by the monster. He knew what it was like to lose family, but at least in some ways he'd seen the blizzard before it had engulfed his mother – not that he could do anything about it after running away. To lose them so suddenly, though, somebody as young as that boy, to an _animal_... He didn't know if there could be a worse feeling than losing those cherished forever to something seemingly so insignificant.

Maybe being raked at with that creature's claws, or diced by its fangs as sharp as knives.

Stepping inside his room, he peered at the pocket watch by his bedside table. It wasn't even late: still eight hours left on the clock before the sun officially completed its cycle and the twin celestial moons rose. He didn't care, however. Mind awash with the beast, his body shut down for the night.

* * *

A bang on the metal outside startled him from his deep, dreamless slumber. He was wide awake, exhaustion afflicting him no more. Intrigue twinkled in his eyes. When he remembered Drevon slept close to his quarters, however, his curiosity was replaced by an irked grumble. The purple dragon was always up early mucking about in his room. One such morning he'd found him playing chase with his sister, Carolin. Sure, the room was spacious enough for a game or two, but with the way he ran like a fire through stubble, he was bound to crash into the walls at some point. Thankfully, dragon skulls were built for charging and he was never injured.

Roland tossed in bed, humming irritably. How could one dragon be so energetic? He wondered if the Ancestors regretted their decision to give one such as Drevon the energy he clearly didn't need. With the noise he made, he probably disturbed even them. And then, once it was all wasted on his shenanigans, he'd sleep like a rock for ten hours.

The smack on the wall came again, reverberating across his room. And then once more, only seconds after. This time, Roland sat up, frowning. Normally Drevon would only make one mistake before slinking off to bed, guilty.

"What are you doing in there...?" Roland mumbled to himself, one more knock at the steel confusing him further. Examining the hands on his pocket watch, he realised it was only three-thirty. "I thought it was later than that. Drevon's usually asleep at this time..."

As he crawled out of his sheets, a voice broke through the dense walls, furious. He leaned against the wall beside him; however, it faded as though it were never there. Concern for his friend replaced his irritation.

He quietly scampered down the sewer lines and stopped in front of Drevon's door. He remembered building this little room when it was just the four of them: himself, Seth, Myrtle, and Drevon. All the rooms were made of the stone Seth and occasionally Myrtle could summon on a whim, and the metallic walls already happened to be there. He silently thanked the brown dragon again for his kindness to build such things. Roland had always wondered where he'd learnt to construct them, whether his skill was innate or not.

His musings were halted by the slam on the iron again. Nobody else listened to it, slumbering. He couldn't blame them when they lived further from Drevon's room than he.

He lowered himself to the position of the keyhole. He was uncomfortable with peeping through the keyhole to examine the antics Drevon got up to. He didn't exactly want to see the unholy things he got up to ever again, but it couldn't be helped.

Drevon's room was decorated, unlike many of them, with all sorts of furniture they'd dragged back together. He didn't have a bed, like Roland, but a basket brimming with colourful pillows, which he always said he preferred because he rolled in his sleep. They lay strewn about the room which perplexed him, as though Drevon had dragged himself out of bed.

Then he heard the voice from earlier. The fact it belonged to Seth scared him. Rules were that nobody entered a room unless invited inside – not even Roland, their sort-of leader. The rage in Seth's voice suggested he'd invited himself in, though.

He looked around the room, but it took shifting his head and vision to truly grasp the display in front of him. Cuffs fashioned out of the stone floor shackled the purple dragon to the wall, brown paws wrapped around his neck. Drevon wheezed, breath restrained by Seth's clawed grip. If it had been any tighter, he'd probably suffocate.

"You're useless, Drevon." Roland felt his own breath catch in his throat as Seth spoke. "You're the purple dragon and you're absolutely useless. You don't even want to help anyone; instead, you just _sit there_ , complaining about the sewers! If you hate us all so much, why don't you just leave?!"

Seth was angry about the jokes made about the sewers' stench? Drevon appeared to utter a word, but the earth dragon didn't give him a chance, nor did he seem to hear.

"Do you even care, Drevon?"

Drevon couldn't force the words through his throat. He spluttered weakly, painfully.

"I asked you a question, Drevon. Do you even _care_!?" Seth pulled the purple dragon back for a second, only to slam his body into the metal. An audible crunch echoed through the room. One of the many dark spines descending Drevon's back fell to the ground, hollow against the stone. The silence and brutality inflicted upon him disturbed Roland. This torture over a joke?

"Y-ye... Ye–"

"You're a liar," Seth snarled, growing closer to his face. "You're nothing but a liar! You don't care. Not about Roland, not about Myrtle... Not about _me_. I built _everything_ for you. I created what you live for! I made sure you were safe and happy, and you do _nothing_ to show for it! You just sit there, scaring the shit out of everyone with your purple dragon magic."

Roland could barely watch, but he kept his eye glued to the keyhole. He swallowed the lump in his throat.

"Why don't you just leave? You're nothing, Drevon. That's all you are." Seth's paw glowed a startling green. " _Nothing_!"

The crack that echoed across Drevon's room made Roland jump. Before he could blink, a pillar of earth jolted through the ground, striking the purple dragon's stomach. The cuffs crumbled upon impact, Drevon left to fall to the ground. He clasped his battered stomach, gasping for air.

"Don't tell anyone about this." Seth grasped the purple dragon's horn and pulled his head up to meet his. A complete mockery of a dragon Drevon had been made out to be in that very second. Roland held back the fury to barge in and deck the brown dragon one. He'd only end up the same as Drevon.

Frankly, he was terrified of him now.

"If you do..." The brown dragon paused. He wrenched at Drevon's horn. "I'll show you what dying feels like. I'll rip out those fucking horns of yours."

Then Seth shoved his face into the stone and stormed away from him. He was coming to the door.

Roland lifted his head away and scampered far into the gloom of one of the many pipes. The door swung open and Seth slammed it for good measure. If he was trying to be quiet, he hadn't done a good job. Maybe he knew nobody would hear him.

The red dragon could barely fathom what he'd witnessed. He knew Seth had always been somewhat aggressive to those he didn't like, but a full-on beating wasn't him. Seth turned down the corridors moments later, vanishing with any trust Roland had once had for him.

When the silence permeated Firemore's sewers once more, Roland rushed back. The door groaned open, weak from Seth's punishment. Drevon spluttered, red fluid leaking from his nostrils dripping onto the ground.

As he walked inside, Drevon looked up, tears dancing in his eyes. As he realised who it was, he looked more embarrassed than in overwhelming pain. "Oh, h-hey..." His words were barely audible through his wheezing. He spluttered breathlessly. "...R-Roly."

"Don't talk to me, Drevon." Roland was by his side immediately, offering him his paw. "Focus on your stomach."

On his feet again, Drevon did as he was told. He leaned against the wall where he'd been shackled for support.

"I don't have any spirit gems with me and I'm afraid to leave you alone," Roland stated. The seriousness in his voice caught Drevon off-guard. "You're gonna have to make do."

"I-it's... fine," he wheezed. "Th-th..."

"Don't talk."

It took a good while before Drevon's breathless gasps retreated and the air returned. He aggressively rubbed at the tears staining his face. He clearly hated himself for it, to be sobbing in front of his best friend. In no way could Roland could blame him for it, though.

"I... I shouldn't be here. He's right." Drevon's eyes met the floor. His words startled the red dragon. "I should just leave and–"

"No, Drevon, don't think that," Roland spoke back. "I've never seen him like that. That's not him at all... Has he done anything like this before? And more importantly, are you okay now?"

Drevon sniffed, wiping the blood from his snout. He stared at it for a strangely long time, like he'd never seen such a thing. "I-it still stings down there... And he's come in here before, but h-he... he never hurts me. He usually just yells at me..."

"Why didn't you defend yourself?" Roland asked, draping a wing over Drevon's shoulders. He flinched momentarily, but didn't seem to mind after a few seconds. Drevon froze at the question, whimpering. "You're the _purple dragon_. I've seen you fight, and..." Roland adopted a slight grin. "And you're a force to be reckoned with. You could've taken him down with that ice of yours, or–"

"H-he..." He didn't seem like he could finish his sentence. Another loose tear rolled down his cheek.

"He what?"

"He... scares me..." Being the strong, exuberant dragon he was, the shame in Drevon's voice was indescribable. Roland couldn't blame him for being terrified; he'd felt the same simply watching the earth dragon's display. "He tells me to leave, tells me I'm worthless, threatens my sister. He tells me he actually w-wants to kill me, Roland. And just now he said–"

"I heard what he said." Roland huffed. Seth's words were unreasonable. He remembered the spine he'd shattered and suppressed the anger in his tone. At least dragons couldn't feel their spines and horn and tail blades, and they grew back quickly enough if destroyed. But getting one yanked straight from the body had to be a different story. "To be honest, I don't think even he'd have the guts, Drevon. Seth wouldn't kill somebody. None of us would... Did you see him coming back from the city today?"

He felt bad for saying it, but his bitterness for Seth quelled those feelings. Drevon, however, seemed confused. "N-no?" He sniffed.

"According to Ashlyn, he came back crying after we both saw that flying thingo in the market square, attacking the stalls and people... Ah, crap, now I've opened up a can of worms."

He predicted the new look on Drevon's face. "Wait, what?"

"Long story short, that _thing_ we saw in the sky last night wasn't a weird dragon and was actually this monster. It... well, it killed people, to put it straight." Roland could still hardly stomach the thought. After getting some sleep to ponder over it, however, he was able to accept nothing like it would happen again. Firemore's guard was reliable; they'd get the weaponry fixed and ready to go to stop any more of these invasions. Of course, thoughts of that adolescent cheetah didn't simply vanish. He shuddered. "Anyway, point is, I don't think Seth would want you dead. Dunno if he'd be able to deal with blood on his paws. Maybe he was just... extra mad today. Don't worry about the monster, either."

"N-no, now you've got me interested." Drevon leaned in slightly, shifting the subject. "You mean it actually came in and killed people?"

"Yeah, I was hiding in an alleyway when it happened."

"What did it look like? ...Did you almost get eaten by it?" Drevon's child-like intrigue was sort of unnerving.

"It was grey and it had these yellow eyes and fangs and it screamed at people and..." Roland put a paw to his jaw. "Feel like we're both treating people dying too lightly. It was horrible to watch, and... I'm worried about their families, honestly."

"You didn't know any of them, did ya, bud?"

"Uh, no?"

"Then who cares about 'em. Worry about yourself and your friends. I'm just glad nothing happened to _you_."

"Um... I-I guess?"

"Dragons and cheetahs and moles and stuff die everyday," Drevon said nonchalantly, able to see Roland wasn't convinced. "If I told you some dragon or cheetah kicked the bucket in that Lingrad bullshit overseas, would you care? It's just as if not more brutal and there's thousands more of 'em. There's, like, gunshots and shit, and if you've seen what the cheetahs can do with an E.F... Or heard about what the Assembly's ice dragons do to other people..."

When the newspapers soared out of the printer's offices and landed in the paws of many, the headlines and stories of warring species overseas were on the front page every time. _'Confederates Fight Back', 'Assembly Loses Ground',_ all that jazz, yet Roland couldn't care less about it and overall didn't know anything about it, other than that he was supposed to root for the Confederation, and the weapons used by many were E.F.'s: elemental firearms. Perhaps Drevon had a point, but those damned images wouldn't so easily leave his mind. There was a significant difference between hearing it from miles away than seeing it before your very eyes. "Maybe you're right."

"I always am!" Surprisingly, he grinned, seeming to forget about the encounter earlier. That, or he desired some semblance of respite from Roland. "Anyway," he continued, getting up, the red dragon following suit, "I think it's a bit early to go out and do shit today. Think we should both go back to bed."

"Yeah, alright." Roland nearly tripped over the pillows Drevon then started gathering. "I'll see you in the morning."

"It is morning." Drevon shoved his own pocket watch into the red dragon's face, chuckling.

He pushed his paw away. "See you _later_ then, smart-arse." Roland ambled out the door. He stopped as he found himself within the sewers once more. "And hey, Drevon?"

"What do you want, bud?"

"You can tell me, you know." His smirk gave way to the warmest smile he could muster. "Don't keep it all bogged up inside of you. You don't deserve this. I'll see if I can talk to Seth about it because he'd probably be willing to listen to me."

"You... you sure?" Unconvinced, Drevon stopped gathering his pillows and moved to the oaken door. However, the determination in Roland's eyes settled any doubts he had.

"Yeah, of course. I can't just let you be antagonised by him."

Drevon beamed. "Thanks, Roly. Goodnight." And with an awkward creak, the door closed in front of Roland, leaving him to stare into the empty sewers once more.

The purple dragon of all things, bullied by a mere earth dragon. It was completely unreasonable, Roland thought. Spyro had been that heroic, loyal, loving soul nobody opposed – until he turned to the darkness, of course – if not because of their love for him but for their fear over what a purple dragon could unleash. Truly, Roland had never seen the powers of aether before his own eyes, but he'd read stories of it, of magic that rippled through the air, tearing away light, ripping the world asunder. Even a breath would turn the strongest to a cinder.

"Yet Seth's not afraid of any of that?" Roland questioned, sauntering along the pathway to his room. He realised his voice echoed and trapped his muzzle with a paw. "Not to mention their power in everything else..." he muttered.

Maybe Drevon was different to the other purple dragons, though. He certainly wasn't heroic and hadn't displayed his true power to anybody yet. If Roland had that kind of power, he'd use it willy nilly, but maybe only because he'd never felt an element before. Perhaps Drevon knew not to blast whatever he saw fit with the element of the purple dragons.

Or maybe Drevon couldn't. Roland hadn't thought about that. All this time he'd been seeing purple dragons as this legendary race of his own kin – in spite of how annoying he could become in the span of two seconds, he looked up to Drevon, a feeling he didn't share with anybody else. They were supposed to be born in times of prophecy, either to smite evil or become the darkness. He'd always wondered which one Drevon was when he was far younger, but those feelings stopped after a while.

Drevon's story seemed different. Perhaps he was just another normal dragon. And, just maybe, _that_ was the way Seth saw it.


	4. Cat in a Hat

Cat in a Hat

Roland didn't exactly know where to begin. Awakening a few hours later, he'd set his mind on speaking to Seth, as per his words to Drevon, but where was he supposed to start? He'd been determined on outright telling him to quit the nonsense and apologise. Thinking over Seth's tendencies to be volatile, however, made him question whether his method would at all be effective.

He was more worried over what Seth might do to him. Despite being the sort-of leader of their ragtag gang of misfits, Roland had always felt Seth had more authority and power than him. He couldn't deny he did whatever Seth said with little to no question. Even before the beating of his best friend, he'd been somewhat frightened of him and what he could do.

But none of that stopped him as he walked closer to the door to the office, the area Seth took to residing. He did do a lot of the work, even for the pettiest of their thieves. The vault's wealth, hidden away amongst the pipelines, was taken care of by him, each and every copper piece counted and thrown into piles accordingly. He did sort of force himself into the role, though, building a lock and a sealed hole only he and Roland knew the location of. The red dragon had never been fluent in mathematics, either, so the work fell to him.

Well, he, Seth, and _someone_ _else_ knew. There had been a break-in recently. They didn't take much, but it did leave them all startled...

Other than that, Seth also kept everyone in line when he was around. Years ago, there had often been bickering and fights breaking out amongst their ranks, but... Well, Roland guessed Seth ended up scaring them all. Whether he did to them what he did to Drevon, Roland wasn't sure, but he hoped not.

Roland swallowed the ball of fear gathering in his throat. Whatever happened, he'd try to make sure this meeting would go smoother than the torture in Drevon's room. At least he was _friends_ with Seth, unlike the purple dragon. They'd known each other for years.

He didn't bother knocking knowing he had the authorisation to enter. Seth wouldn't mind that much. The wooden door opened and, readying himself for his appeal to Seth, he traipsed inside.

Seth didn't notice him come in, his back turned as he sorted items into a set of drawers in the corner. Unlike many an office, this one acted as Seth's bedroom as well. Akin to Drevon's room, the other corner had a basket brimming with pillows, yet their range of colour lacked the disorganisation of Drevon's. A bulb of yellow light was strung to the ceiling, flickering almost menacingly, above a desk in the very centre, a crinkled map of Firemore splayed atop its surface as well as various writing instruments. The chair Seth usually seated himself in was neatly tucked into the desk, needed so he could reach the map without standing on his hind legs.

Roland once again cleared his throat. Seth turned away from the papers and valuables by his feet.

"Oh, hey, Roland." A slight grin played at his muzzle. Roland hoped he would understand his actions were unfounded and dreadful. "I thought you were someone else."

"Who did you think I was?" he asked. Seth shrugged.

"Eh, it doesn't matter. What do you need?"

"Well, I came to ask if you've been, uh... _involved_ in anything with Drevon. You know, just out of curiosity..."

He noticed Seth's eye visibly twitch, but his thin smile remained unchanging. "Why do you ask?"

"I thought I heard your voice coming through the wall last night." Roland walked around the desk to the other corner of the room when Seth started moving towards the door, carrying a small lamp to a neat little table near it. "Plus... Drevon looked a bit hurt this morning."

"You know exactly what's going on here, Roland, don't you?" Seth shut the door with a low click. Roland swallowed the lump gathering in his throat again. "He put you up to this, didn't he?"

Roland tried his best to stand resolute, keep his paws from trembling like reeds. "No, he didn't. I came by myself... Come on, Seth, it's wrong. You can't just go and pin someone to a wall and treat them like that. It's–"

"My mother never told me it was wrong," he intervened. "She encouraged it. She treated me the same way. She always told me that I needed to grow up, and I did. I'm just trying to show Drevon his place. He's not a good dragon. He's sca–"

"What do you have against him?" Roland held back his own anger, instead responding with some curiosity. "He hasn't ever done anything to you."

Seth's laugh was dry and humourless. "What a fucking joke. Hasn't done _anything_? He takes bloody everything from us and he doesn't give enough back. Plus, I _know_ he was responsible for the break-in to our vault. When I asked the fucker about it, he didn't even answer me."

"And how is that a reason?" Roland asked, unable to stop the poison seeping into his tone. "Maybe he's fucking scared of you, Seth. Maybe that's why he doesn't want to talk to you."

"The _purple dragon_ scared of someone like me? Seriously?" Seth, again, laughed. "I think you might need to get checked up there, Roland. That's completely ridiculous. He should be able to hold his own weight against some earth dragon like myself."

"I think you know he's scared of you and you're just trying to blame him for shit he never would've done."

"Well, what are you gonna do about it, lanky?" Seth sat there, paw behind the desk. Roland noted the glow he attempted to hide. "You came in here to tell me to stop it. What are you gonna do about it? Gonna teach me lesson, no-breath? Gonna hit me?"

"Unlike you, I don't beat up my family for no reason," Roland retorted. Seth's weak smile vanished. "Nobody deserves that. Not even you, despite how much of an arsehole I've learned you are today."

"You don't have a fucking family anymore. Neither do I."

"Well, if we're not family to you, what are we, Seth?" Roland glared. "Are we just a group of thieves to you? Are we pushovers you use to get what you want? Are you really that much of an arsehole?"

Seth clearly didn't care for hiding his paw anymore. He stalked closer to Roland, growling. "You wanna call me an arsehole again?" Truly, Roland realised now that Seth was a head taller than him. He was tiny in the dragon's shadow, but never did he allow his nerves to get the better of him. "You think you scare me, Roland?"

"No, of course I don't." He looked into the Seth's eyes, teeth bared. "I just know I'm better than whatever the fuck you are."

Seth snarled; as Roland predicted, he clenched his paw and a pillar of earth jolted out of the ground. Roland leaped to the side, the stone barely nicking him. Seth was caught off-guard but then opened his mouth. A blast of green collided with Roland as he landed, body slamming into the wall.

Dazed, he looked up. Seth rushed towards him, paw outstretched. He smashed into the metallic wall where the smaller of the two had just been, the clang of iron against his paw reverberating across the office. Atop the desk, Roland panted, wings battered.

"Stop running, Roland. How about you actually fight?"

Roland didn't answer, taking a stapler in his paws. He pegged it at the brown dragon. It smacked him fair in the face with an audible thump. Seth fell to the ground with a yelp even Roland hadn't expected, the glow evaporating.

Seth bounced to his feet, rage burning in his eyes. He held his skull, bloodied by the steel instrument. "Y-you fucker. I didn't think you'd get dirty..."

"And pinning me to a wall to torture me isn't dirty?" Roland readied the tape dispenser in his paws and sent it hurtling through the air, only for Seth to duck and charge the desk. He fell off, tripping up and winding himself.

He tried to sprint away but Seth stepped onto his tail blade and he stumbled over his legs. When he did manage to slither away from the brown dragon, he noted the chair held high within Seth's paws.

With a startled cry akin to the screams of the market square, the wooden seat met his eyes.

His vision darkened as he hit the floor. He tried desperately to clamber away, knocked far out of his senses. Everything shook and the world spun, a wash of greys and browns. The chair seemed to echo as it fell to the ground; he felt splinters sting his spine.

"You've... done..."

He couldn't understand him. His mind flared, the world churning. He wasn't sure, but he felt his back against something.

There was a crack and Roland torpidly turned to face it. A blob of green entered the office, loud and unnerving. He couldn't tell who it was. He was more focused on the bleary crimson he could see gushing from his nostrils and down his forehead.

"S... wh..."

His mind went numb. He couldn't feel a thing. His vision gave way, dying like the whimper escaping his mouth.

* * *

The next thing he knew something was stabbing his face, a pain unlike any other he'd felt. So much energy coursing through him at once, he yelled out, gasping. The sheets he once slumbered in were torn in his panic.

Then his sudden burst of energy faded as though it'd never been there, the stabbing weakening to a tolerable sting. His ragged gasps were reduced to no more than a faint pant. He looked to the side, discerning his location. A tiny crate of crystals lay beside him, both varying shades of red and purple. Fury gems were amongst them, explaining his outburst. Seemed as though he'd absorbed some amongst the red healing crystals. The opening of the door distracted him from them, though.

"Oh, finally, you're awake!" The green dragoness, Myrtle, called from his doorway, dropping yet another handful of gems to the floor. They shattered, fragments spilling everywhere. "And you've... ripped up all your nice, clean bed sheets."

"How long have I..." He spluttered, voice croaky. "H-how long's it been?"

"A day, Roly," Myrtle said. "Seth really did a number on–"

"A day!?" It hadn't felt that long at all! One moment he'd been out cold, the next he was in bed. He touched his forehead, remembering the violent smashing of his skull. The scales were soft and almost gooey. The chair nearly smashed through his skull. At least he couldn't feel much of the pain anymore, thanks to spirit gems. "Ancestors..."

"Yeah, I wasn't sure if you were actually gonna wake up. Thank the Ancestors for spirit gems." Myrtle looked surprisingly miserable. It was her turn to feel exhausted apparently. Possibly because of her endeavours to retrieve spirit gems for him. They had spirit gems in their vault, but no fury gems... Why had she gone out of her way for these? "Seth hit you with a fucking chair after all... Why'd you antagonise him, Roland? He doesn't usually attack people, especially with chairs. He told me you said some stupid things."

"I guess I did let my anger get the better of me." He exhaled, relaxing his head against the bedhead. "It's a bit of a long story."

He explained the events prior to Myrtle. The more he said, the more her face contorted into a look of disgust, but it seemed she knew of what he spoke.

"I saw some of that stuff earlier," she said soon after. "All the yelling. I thought Seth was just angry at him for somethin' though, not that this was some ongoing attempt to bully him. I wonder what Drevon did to start all this."

"I'd wonder if he even did anything," Roland said back, suppressing the irritation in his tone. "I've only ever seen Drevon have a few mishaps, and that was only ever stuff you'd just laugh off. He'd never do anything to deserve this."

"Yeah. It's surprising to hear about a purple dragon being tormented like this anyway." Myrtle sat and put a claw to her jaw. She smirked a second later. "Though, it's also pretty surprising to see a purple dragon do anythin', considering how rare they are. Rest assured, this shouldn't happen again. I... talked to Seth about it."

He grimaced. "Myrtle, you sound just as bad as him when you say it like that."

"Well, talked as in... yelled at him a fair bit, maybe slapped him once. He knows better than to hit _me,_ though _._ " She winked. Roland breathed a sigh of relief. He didn't need Firemore's band of thieves going to war over this predicament... Although, after receiving a mouthful of chair, he wouldn't mind the green dragoness roughing him up a bit. "You feelin' okay now, Roland?" she questioned next.

"I've just got a headache." He threw the fragmented sheets to the floor and jumped out of bed – he landed too hard, he realised, when a cramp rocketed up his spine and through his wings. He stumbled, but managed to keep his footing. "A-and... my back hurts."

"Hey, lay down." Myrtle hurried over and nearly pushed him back into his bed with her wing, what with the way she wrapped it around him. "I'll steal you some new sheets and–"

He shook his head. "No, I'm fine. Just want some fresh air." He smiled, Myrtle releasing him. "It sure does stink in here."

She chuckled. "You tell me you're used to it all the time, though."

"It's not like I don't enjoy the air outside more."

Walking towards the door, Myrtle remembered she'd made a mess. "Well, fine. I've gotta clean this up. Don't get back too late."

He carefully shifted around the gem fragments, careful not to get too close since the shattered gemstones were attracted to dragons. "How do you expect to do it? Unless you're planning on absorbing them all... You know they're like drugs to uninjured dragons, right?"

"Getting high's a _consequence_? Sign me the fuck up!" She gave a hearty laugh. Roland frowned, concerned, but he at least knew they had no major side effects. Well, not that he was aware of. He just wasn't fond of the _colours_ they produced after taking them once _._

"Uh... B-be my guest, Myrtle."

With the green dragoness left to absorb the spirit gems, Roland wandered outside his room and to the sewer's exit pipe. He'd only go out for a quick breather and then he'd come back. The sun was beginning to set after all...

* * *

Funnily enough, his previous idea of relishing in the salty air were tossed aside for yet another trip into the city. It'd only been two days since his last venture into Firemore, but he felt he needed to get away from the pipes for a while. He quite honestly preferred seeing yet another winged horror than he did dealing with his newfound anxiety around Seth. It wasn't like it'd happen again anyhow. The guard was more than capable.

He descended into the usual alleyway beside the market square, certain he hadn't alerted anybody to his presence. The scarlet staining the street had been cleared and the bodies were gone. Even the damages to the city had been for the most part rectified. However, the number of dragons and moles, and especially cheetahs, had declined significantly. Though he could've put that up to the moons rising in the sky and the distant town criers calling the word 'bedtime'.

An hour later, the street lantern above him began to glimmer, lighting the page by his feet. He'd officially run out of ink. He could quickly thieve another vial from the stall owner who'd been so brainless to leave his goods inside the stall. At least they'd locked them away, though a simple iron lock was no match for his claws – yet he didn't go after it.

His mind was unclear, fogged by his worries of Drevon, of what Seth may be doing at that moment he was sitting there. Tempted by his concerns, he nearly packed up and soared back home to check on him, but he set his perturbation aside for the peace of the night. Maybe Myrtle had taught Seth a lesson...

He looked to the luminous streets outside the alleyway and his heart skipped a beat when he saw a flicker of a movement beyond. First, he was unsure. He clambered to his feet and slipped into the murk of the night when he noticed the jingle of light armour.

They stopped at his alleyway, he noted with his golden eyes. The figure was a cheetah – he could tell by the height alone.

"You can come out, Red Rodent," the guard spoke. Amazingly, Roland knew the voice. He remembered the shakiness in the guard's tone two days back as though it'd only been mere minutes ago. "Roland... That's your name, is it not?"

The guard knew his name as well. Roland, frightened by this despite his familiarity with the cat, leaped upwards, ascending the buildings without so much as a whisper of sound. Before he reached the top, the guard spoke again.

"I'm not here to arrest you! I simply wish to speak with you. It's about the dreadwing incident."

Roland stopped, holding onto the ledge of the building. Dreadwing? That was what they were calling it? The lure of knowledge broke past his suspicions.

He heard the page he was writing on being lifted, a metallic hand scraping along the stone. Quiet for a moment, he felt his face warm. He hadn't had a stranger read his writings before.

"Hey, this isn't bad," the cheetah complimented. "Where did somebody like you learn to write like this? Really good stuff, especially for one who's never received an education. I really like the way you curl your 'G's too. It reminds me of the way Tris does it... Sorry, I'm rambling."

Roland scampered back down the buildings again, if not to retrieve his pages then to mildly gush about his supposed masterpiece. He met the guard face to face, surprised to see him without a helmet on. He wasn't sure, but the stranger's face had a bluish hue, something he'd never seen in a cheetah before. Some kind of _arctic_ cheetah, perhaps? His face was obscured by the broad hat he wore, though. Roland could've been wrong.

"Um... Th-thanks." Roland held out his paw to take it back. The guard was perplexed for a moment but mentally slapped himself soon enough.

"Ah, yes, sorry," he spoke, handing the page back. "You have the proficiency in writing of an academy graduate, Roland. Very surprising stuff to see, even more so when I believe you're only sixteen years of age."

"How do you know my name?" he asked, curiosity in his eyes. Perhaps his infamy had sparked interest in the cheetah before him. Uncomfortably, he seated himself on the stone. Of course, he wasn't willing to be captured yet again, so he made sure he was ready to spring away at a moment's notice. "And what's yours?"

"My name's Harper." Harper bowed shortly, lifting the hat off his head; a man of formalities, clearly. Even the rough, chipped armour he donned didn't take away from his relatively fancy appearance. "And I heard you speaking to that friend of yours before the dreadwing attacked."

"Why the name 'dreadwing'? Did you make up that name on the spot?" Roland asked. "Uh, it sounds... pretty edgy."

Harper grinned slightly. "Oh, Ancestors, no. I'd be a laughing stock around my other writing colleagues. No, it was a name we found in a number of books about mythical creatures. Turns out they weren't so mythical after all."

Roland almost wanted to believe Harper was lying to him, deceiving him into a false sense of security – the guards had done it before – but his tone seemed too genuine for that. Plus, the creature did look as if it had been ripped straight from a fantasy novel. Couldn't deny that.

"Why do you want to talk to me about this dreadwing?" he questioned. "I don't really know anything, other than that... Well, you saved me from it. I guess I should probably thank you."

"No need." Harper waved his paw in front of him modestly. "And I was stupefied that the creature didn't come rushing towards you. You clearly weren't affected by its fear blasting, either... Tell me, Roland, you do have an element, right?"

He felt Harper was going a little too far with this. "Um... Why do you wanna know?"

"Me and my associates believe that these blasts of fear may be related to magic," Harper explained. "See, we all have magic in some capacity, and I believe the most fluent in the elements were affected more than others. Even I and the rest of the cheetahs were affected. We have a little earth in us, after all. But you... You were terrified, clearly, but you weren't screaming and breaking down like the others. You just seemed shocked, but otherwise unharmed by it."

"Sounds like you're making a lot of assumptions." But Roland knew he was correct in some way. He'd expressed puzzlement over why he hadn't been paralysed like the rest of them. "I do know what you're talking about, though. I was thinking about it myself. I don't have an element, no."

"Do you know that a great deal of those affected haven't recovered yet?" Harper leaned his back against the wall, the iron scraping gratingly against the stone. The cheetah made certain to keep still after the noise. "They've gotten better, but a lot of the dragons with overly strong affinities for their element are paranoid over nothing at the moment. We fear what an attack on a larger scale might do to the city's population. There's apparently been more sightings of them circling areas outside Firemore, but we can't confirm anything yet."

Roland felt a bead of sweat roll down his forehead, coursing between his scales. This city didn't need another dreadwing invasion. "But what does this have to do with me for you to come here?"

"To put it straight, I think your predicament is strange. At first, I thought your element was late, but this dreadwing attack makes me think you'll never have one, considering you weren't affected. Which, if you didn't know, is completely impossible within a dragon. Or, well, we thought so until now..."

Roland had come to accept that he'd never unlock the true potential of a dragon, but now he was somehow involved in this because he didn't have an element? He didn't know how to feel about that. A bit too coincidental, he thought. "Maybe I've just got some rare disability or something. So what? What's this have to do with creatures that came out of seemingly nowhere? If there's somebody to link _anything_ to, it's the purple dragon, not me."

"I have my feelings that the purple dragon would be just as affected as anyone else, maybe even more so because of their unnatural power," Harper said. "You might not be wrong, but it makes me think that... perhaps _you_ might have something to do with this. Something you probably don't know, of course. I'm not blaming you for any of this, and it's all just a theory at the moment..."

"I still don't get it." Roland crossed his forepaws, beginning to lose his patience.

"I think the dreadwing was looking for you," he finished.

Roland raised a brow, disturbed by his remark. "Looking for me? Why would it–"

"I don't _know_ ," Harper interrupted. "But I get the feeling something bigger is going on here than just the return of a creature we thought was myth. You might have a part in it."

He thought about it for a moment, yet it still seemed so unrealistic. His element being missing couldn't be anything more than a birth defect. "I doubt I'm part of some huge prophecy thing. I'm just another street rat, Harper."

"Just think about it for a while, alright?" Harper pulled a slip of paper from the leather satchel by his side and held it out for Roland. "This is my address. Meet me in two days if you feel any different."

"What's in it for me?" he asked, looking over the slip of paper. _99 Firespark Row_. Roland recognised the house; it was a pretty standard stone house, though he'd never seen the cheetah inside of it.

Harper smiled. "I'm glad you asked. I know you're at least somewhat interested in this case, so maybe you'd like to help me figure it out. I feel you'd like a few tips on your writing as well, and my child, Tris, knows more about the elements than even I do. Perhaps she can help you with your element if you really do have one. Plus, it would help rule out the possibility of anything strange being the case here, and perhaps we can find out if it _is_ just mere coincidence."

A tantalising offer, but Roland didn't know yet. "How do I know I can trust you? You might just lock me away again."

"To tell you the truth, none of the guard cares for you now." He chuckled softly, though his voice did seem shameful. "They've accepted that some things are just going to be stolen. By the law of Spyro, high-king of years gone, we can't do much to stop you, other than lock you away for a while and try to get you an education. And I don't care enough to put you in an academy. It's a waste of my time, because you'll just run away again."

And he'd thought they were still hot on his tail, searching for him... Maybe he could try stealing from them to revitalise their interest in the mysterious Red Rodent. He did enjoy a little competition. "Well, I'll... I'll think about it."

"Splendid!" The cheetah did a sort of victory fist-pump, placing the hat upon his head again. "I'll see you there then. Now, get going before the other guards find me talking to you."

"Uh, yeah. See you." Roland picked up his vial of ink, capped it, and took off into the sky. Strange times were abound indeed. First a monster, then learning Seth was an utter arsehole, and then being invited elsewhere? He'd never been summoned by another person before, other than his friends.

"Still don't know how to feel about being _involved_ in this somehow..." he muttered lowly to himself. It was fascinating Harper did assume he had some part to play in the arrival of the dreadwings, but nonetheless he remained doubtful. He'd only known thievery. Having some part to play in a plot bigger than himself was out of his comfort zone.

He felt uncomfortable, not only because of that, but because of Harper's knowledge. He seemed a little too determined to win him over.

Well, he'd go for the writing tips, anyway. Harper didn't have anything against him. Maybe this visit to his home would be _exciting_.


	5. Monster House

Monster House

There simply was no better place to sit than the entrance to the sewers. The ocean sprawled and glistened before him, earthy green dotting the horizon, faint against the sky's orange tint. Rain beat a gentle rhythm into the metallic pipe above him, protruding out of Firemore's great wall – he tried to find a tempo, but he lost focus whenever it fluctuated. He could smell the salt in the air; by some miracle, it drowned the stench of the sewers. Despite being the entrance to their sewer system, what one would think would be busy, he could find no greater area to gather his thoughts, not even the peace of his own makeshift bedroom. Not many really lived down here. He was too distracted to care for anyone passing through if they did.

At that very moment, his thoughts were on the dreadwings he eyed flittering amongst the distant clouds. Even from the pipes, he listened to their screams. While the paralysis never affected him, he still trembled. And, despite his distance, he felt he could see their faces in perfect detail: he never forgot those yellow eyes that breached his mind, pierced his soul. It was as though it were looking into him, judging him. Drevon had told him not to worry about them, but the thought still struck him with anxiety.

Though, Harper was worried about them too, and he was a _guard_. Perhaps there was reason to fear the winged terrors.

After their little conversation he couldn't help but wonder if perhaps he was the cause, despite the lacklustre logic in Harper's theorising. He knew his thoughts were irrational, but there wasn't much that _was_ rational about olden mythological creatures rising out of who knows where.

Maybe the fear they struck into even brave hearts was making him paranoid...

"Hey, is that those things up there?" a young voice asked from behind him, feet scampering along the stone. He turned to find Carolin eyeing the skies ahead with intrigue, Ashlyn beside her, worriedly scrutinising the soaring beasts.

"That's them alright." He'd told Ashlyn, yet not Carolin. Ashlyn must've said something to the green dragoness. Strangely, Carolin bounced excitedly after seeing them.

"What are they doing?" her keen voice questioned. "They're just... flying around in circles near each other." Now her tone turned to disappointment. "Is it, like... a mating dance?"

"The last thing I want to think of is those _things_ doing it, Carolin." He shook his head, disgusted yet amused at the same time. "...How do you even know what that is? You're only eleven. You're too young to know about that."

"Blame Drevvy!" she laughed. Ashlyn awkwardly shuffled in place. "... _And_ Ash!"

"Y-you kept going on and on! You wouldn't stop asking what–"

"Okay, that's enough." He grinned. "You should run along, Carolin. You have someplace else to be, _right_?"

She realised what he meant. Her face soured, knowing she had work to do cleaning out a valuable stall beyond the market square. "Aw... But I wanna watch the cool monsters in the sky!"

"You can look at them when you're flying." He pointed to the entrance. "Just don't get close to them. They're _real_ hungry."

"Ugh, _fine..."_ She hunkered down for a moment before leaping sloppily into the air, spreading her wingspan with unease. Roland laughed at her, but she didn't seem to care. "See ya!"

"Bye..." Ashlyn said softly, voice trailing. Carolin waved to the both of them and Roland looked after her for a few moments before turning to Ashlyn. She took a seat beside him, studying her ring with an awkward smile plastered to her face.

"Made a friend?" he asked her cheerily. She nodded.

"Yeah, she's... _nice_. I like her."

"Makes sense. Carolin's practically everyone's friend. Well, unless you try to steal Mr. Fluffles..."

He didn't say more to spark a conversation. Instead, he returned to his thoughts, relishing in the gentle breeze drifting through the entrance. He savoured that scent permeating the air. He wondered if the dreadwings beyond were enjoying it.

Another darted through the remote trees, joining the pair circling the skies. They didn't remove themselves from their circular formation, screeching at each other. Their screams tore through the skies and met his ear holes in spite of the distance they shared. Ashlyn shuddered next to him, unable to tear her eyes away from them.

"That scream... I-it kind of scares me," her low voice came forth. He felt her shiver beside him. "I wonder where they came from. Harper–er, I mean... one of the _guards_ told me about them yesterday..."

"You know Harper?" he interrupted, brow rising. "I met him yesterday. How do you know him?"

"Oh, you do know him... Dad was a part of the guard." She stretched her ligaments before laying upon the stone, resting her chin atop her paw. Her expression sorrowed. "He... He passed away, though, as you probably know. I-I am an orphan, after all, just like the rest of you. Harper was his best friend back in the day."

"Sorry about that," he said, offering her a comforting wing. Roland had heard stories from all of their recruits, some explained through tears and sobs, other dragons grimly calm about it. He'd heard _so many_ tales that his responses had grown increasingly generic and nonchalant.

She shook her head soon after. He awkwardly retracted his wing. "Don't be. I-it was a while ago now... Anyway, we had that robbery thing on tonight, right?"

"What are you talking... Oh, crap, we do!" He jumped to his feet, panicked, but breathed a gentle sigh of relief a moment later when he realised he was already awaiting his friends at Myrtle's specified meeting point. An embarrassed chuckle slipped through his muzzle. "Whoops. I completely forgot. Guess I've had my mind on other stuff."

"What kind of stuff?" she questioned, polishing her ring with a rag she carried within the satchel by her flank. He could see a little bit of paper poking out from within it, and a few lines drawn atop it, shapes he couldn't quiet make out. Soon after, she groomed her horns with the now grimy cloth. She definitely took some pride in her appearance.

"Harper invited me to his place yesterday and... Well, it's just stuff. Nothing important. Don't worry about it." He noticed footfalls behind him and turned his head, Myrtle trailing behind a purple dragon. "Finally here!" he called. "I almost forgot myself, don't worry."

The earth dragoness jogged to the side of an abnormally exhausted Drevon, a scowl on her face. "This purple layabout wouldn't get out of bed." She turned to Drevon who gave her an innocent smile, to which she narrowed her eyes. He seemed to flinch in pain, stepping on a paw that was hurt. Must've been Seth's work a little while ago. "Don't give me that face."

"Couldn't I have slept _another_ hour?" he asked. Myrtle only glared.

"The sun's _setting_ , you dork. You ain't nocturnal." She looked to Ashlyn. "Ready for your first night out, blue girl?"

"As ready as I'll ever be," the ice dragoness replied. "Though, it's... kind of nerve-wracking."

Myrtle clapped her on the back with a wing, Ashlyn flinching as she did so. "Hey, we're all like that. First we ain't sure about it – we all think it's wrong – but after your first time, I bet you'll love it. It's mostly for fun anyway. We don't have too much else to do, and education's for losers. Who wants to go out and learn a bunch of math and elemental techniques we already know?"

"Y-yeah... I guess."

" _Anyway_ ," Drevon began, stamping his foot impatiently, "can we get this show on the road? I wanna go back to bed."

"You don't have to come if you don't want to." Roland gestured towards the electric lights illiuminating the halls behind them.

Drevon rolled his eyes. "Last time I said that, Myrtle gave me some stupid, boring job to do. I am not cleaning your room ever again. I think I can still feel all the spirit gems you keep in that drawer." He hunkered down before spreading his wings and gliding into the air. "I'll see you there!"

Myrtle laughed and followed suit without another word. Ashlyn looked to Roland and gave a weak smile before following the green tail whipping in the air.

Before taking off he looked to the skies once more. The dreadwings were gone, vanished into thin air. The screeching had stopped. "Must've gone to bed..."

He shook his head. He needed to get his mind off them. He'd barely been able to close his eyes to rest pondering the things those monsters would do to the city. Harper was fearful of further violence being wrought upon Firmore, and through his words, Roland was too. It'd only felt like moments ago when he'd spoken of Roland as though he were special amongst the reappearance of creatures long forgotten, and only moments since he'd felt doubtful of the cat's theories. He was _still_ , but a feeling tugged at his gut anyway. What if he _was_ related to this?

"Are you coming, Roland?" Ashlyn called, hovering in front of him. He snapped out of his distant staring.

"Sorry, yeah." He leaped upwards and took off past her, leaving Ashlyn bewildered behind him. Best he focus on the mission at hand and not the monsters looming on the horizon.

* * *

Something about the mansion in front of Roland was off. Foreboding, even. Perhaps it was the arched, pointed architecture beneath the faint blood red of Adrano, the larger of the celestial moons, or maybe it was strange seeing such an ancient building amongst the modern structures of today, despite it seeming to blend in with the rest of the block. These parts of the city were pretty old in comparison with the rest of Firemore. Perhaps it was the gentle yet ominous rainfall pattering against the pavement and roof. He and Myrtle had decided earlier it was the most boring of the houses by the looks of the emptiness contained within – except for the top floor, of course – but now it stood out as the most interesting on the entire block.

He found it strange that Ashlyn seemed to be shaking as well, her mouth agape. Eventually, though, he wrote it off as her nerves getting the better of her.

"Well, this is it," Myrtle said. "Nobody's around and we're clear to break in." She wiggled her claw into the keyhole and unlocked the mechanism within seconds, then looked back at the red dragon with a wry smile. Her skill was rivalling his own; he felt jealous over that, that he wasn't the thieves' best picker anymore, but a competitive smirk pulled at his maw anyway. "Now let's plan this out so we–"

"I call kitchen," Drevon called, his voice sudden but silent. "I'm starving."

"Drevon, wait–" Roland tried to hiss after the purple dragon, but it was too late for the reckless dragon had already pushed past Myrtle. Roland shook his head, voice low. "I like you, Drevon, but you're a fucking idiot sometimes."

"His mind's always on food." Myrtle sighed, entering the doorway. "And sleep... Whatever. The place is empty. Roland, you search the bottom with Ashlyn for anythin' we might've missed lookin' through the windows. I'll go stuff that real expensive statuette into my satchel after I check that one cabinet I've been eyein'."

"Okay," he replied. She nodded before wandering into the darkness of the house.

Roland felt odd walking up to the house. The low voice in his mind tried to pull him away. He felt almost in danger, as though his mind knew something would go wrong. But there was nobody here. It was silent. In spite of the building looking as though it'd come out of one of those horror plays the theatre liked to put on from occasion, it was just another normal home. A dragon _did_ live here, he knew, but they weren't home now. There was nothing to be afraid of.

It'd just be another normal robbery...

Then why did he feel so afraid? And, when he looked behind him, he wondered why Ashlyn wasn't making an effort to move towards the house.

"Are you coming, Ashlyn?" He cocked his head, walking up to her. Her eyes seemed damp, but that could only be from staring so long. "I'm sure it'll be okay. I'll make sure we have some fun. Everyone has nerves their first–"

"Y-yeah!" she exclaimed abruptly, almost too loud, moving towards the door. Confusion replaced his reassuring smile. "Let's go. I'm ready!"

"Uh, yeah. Th-that's the attitude you wanna have."

He couldn't see much of the house as they entered, blanketed by darkness. Only the floorboards stood out, light seeping through a small skylight in the roof, and the oaken door ahead. Through scrutiny of the house from beyond its walls, however, he knew a chest of drawers lay to his left. Unfortunately, he found nothing of worth; only dusty portraits he couldn't make out the faces of – not that he cared much for them. The appearance of their victim wouldn't matter.

"Nothing here. It is only the entry, though," he said, turning to where he thought Ashlyn was standing. "How's about we head into the next room and look around?"

He wasn't exactly waiting for an answer, but he did expect one. That, and he expected to hear footsteps trailing behind him. He spun in a circle, looking for her.

"Ash? You there?" he felt around the darkness, but couldn't find the blue dragoness. "Ashlyn?"

He rushed into the next room of the house, a room made for sitting and greeting others. She wasn't atop the couch square in the centre or around the odd, worthless ornaments lying in front of it, nor searching the cabinets behind it all, as Myrtle was currently on that. She wasn't even around the weird trap door in the corner, but he hadn't heard that old thing creak at all.

"If anything, she knows how to make herself disappear," he mumbled to himself. Myrtle apparently heard him, lifting her head. Her expression was nearly unrecognisable within the gloom of these walls, but he knew she was perplexed as well.

"You okay, Roland?" she asked, then quickly changed her question. "...Where's the blue girl?"

Roland exhaled. "She was literally right next to me, and then she just... _disappeared_. I didn't even hear her leave my side, and I'm usually good at picking out footsteps."

Myrtle seemed to panic slightly, her plan already disrupted enough for the night. "Great. Now we have Drevvy to worry about making a mess, and now a rookie causin' a ruckus. At least it's only Ashlyn – she doesn't feel like one to start a house fire."

He slowly began to shuffle off, but not before spouting the obvious joke. "She's an ice dragoness. I don't think she's capable..."

"Very funny." Myrtle shook her head, grabbing an item from the cabinets. She put it back quickly after, realising it was yet another picture. Roland wondered why they had so many photos and was tempted to dust off the next he saw. "Look for Ashlyn, Roland. She'd easily get lost in a mansion like this."

"Already on it." Roland moved on, floorboards murmuring beneath his padding paws. He approached a hallway with various other rooms attached to it, one of which being the kitchen, in which Drevon had taken to raiding the cookie jar. No ice dragoness, however, so he continued his search. Drevon wouldn't have paid any attention.

To his right lay two rooms. They seemed as though they weren't in use – bare, cobwebs slung amongst the roofing, faint amongst the pale red through their arched windows. The house looked as though it'd never been in use by anyone, and from snooping about, he and Myrtle had found that the fat majority of the mansion's rooms were empty and unexciting. All they wanted was a golden statuette. Myrtle apparently knew a fence who desired such a thing and offered a large sum of copper for its liberation.

He'd best be worrying over Ashlyn's location, however. Climbing the set of stairs ahead of him, he reached the second floor of the mansion. The bathroom and two bedrooms lay ahead, one of the bedrooms smaller than the other, fit for a child such as he. It was fully furnished too, in stark contrast to the rest of the plain rooms, even the bigger of the bedrooms, and especially the haunting exterior. He didn't pay it much mind for a moment, but his curiosity was piqued by a weird little box placed beside the bed.

 _Homely_. He felt that was the only way to describe the rest of the room. It reminded him of his old home.

The kid in question was clearly a reader, several large bookshelves reaching the summit of the room tucked into the corner, and quite obviously loved drawing by the stacks of paper and sketches spread haphazardly across a desk on the other side of the bed. His intrigue over the box vanished for a moment to examine the drawings.

Roland flicked on a desk light after drawing the blue curtains closed above the desk. First he read the title of a book flipped open to a page halfway: _'The Anatomy of our Scaled Friends'._ Dragons from different angles were illustrated upon the parchment, and as he foresaw, the pages beside the tome were dotted with sketches of scaled creatures. He noted one particular drawing, however, an exquisite work of two dragons side by side, one young, another old, staring into distant stars, leaning into each other. The pair must've meant a lot to the kid, as many of the other drawings were of the same scene, only failed attempts they'd disregarded.

He didn't want to take the kid's best work of art, but he did desire a copy for his own room, considering the work's beauty. It'd be a nice memento to the first robbery inside their elaborate plan too. He grabbed one of the more complete attempts at the scene, one with only the adult drawn. It had the same finesse as the complete work, only the owner didn't care for it, being stacked amongst the copies he guessed they would burn, as evidenced by the fireplace with crumpled parchment beside it.

Tucking it beneath his wing, he moved to the odd box. He wondered if there were more drawings contained within its colourful walls. As he flicked the lock and opened the lid, he found he was incorrect. Only another picture was contained within, though this time he raised it to the light. It looked as though it were in good care, unlike the other frames. Roland didn't know why it wasn't being displayed, because the shot was actually quite beautiful. It wasn't drawn by the kid in question, being almost realistic in appearance.

He recognised the figures in the frame from the drawing, a mother and her child sitting side by side, in nearly the same position he'd seen in the other piece of art. Two blue dragons, simply enjoying a sunset this time around. It was almost life-like in appearance – the older of the dragons, the mother of the young hatchling seated beside her, reminded him of his own. A twinge of regret stabbed at his gut, but he knew better than to think of her, focusing on the child instead.

Roland had to squint; the kid's features were more difficult to make out, but they were definitely there. Her face evoked a picture of Ashlyn in his mind, but it was only the white ivory horns that gave him that impression.

His concentration was broken by a low gasp like a whisper, but his keen senses managed to pick it up. He turned to find a startled Ashlyn, mouth agape, staring into him as though he were a demon.

"Ashlyn, wait up!" Roland called as she was about to start running again. He managed to stop her, fortunately. The bewilderment he felt earlier over her sudden departure resurfaced. A scowl upset his features. "What are you _doing_?! Why would just _run off_!?"

Ashlyn looked to want to take flight again, ignore the issues she'd caused. She started to move towards the door again, but Roland was quick and leaped in front of her, shutting the door before she could sprint off.

"No, you're not leaving until you tell me what the hell you're doing," he said. Ashlyn shuffled back, face uneasy in the light. Her eyes seem to focus on the parchment between him and his wing, but only for one negligible moment. "What's wrong? Why are you running around like a lunatic? I thought you wanted to rob a place, not do... whatever you're doing!"

"R-Roland, we need to go somewhere else," she replied, doing her best to assume a resolute stance. "It's urgent. Seriously."

"I doubt it. As soon as I open that door, you're gonna run away again."

"M-my... There's someone in the house, Roland. I'm trying to warn everyone–"

Any anger in his voice vanished instantly, replaced by fear. "Wait, _what_?! I thought it was empty! Myrtle said so!"

"Be _quiet_!" she hissed. "W-we don't want him to hear us..."

The old floorboards outside muttered in pain, slow footfalls replacing the silence. He put his head to the door. Each step sent a tremble tumbling down his spine. Ashlyn joined him, same anxiety painted across her expression. They looked into each other's eyes, and then both turned their gaze to the window.

The others would hear the those loud footsteps. They'd make their way outside easily enough. Roland trusted their abilities.

He rushed to the curtains, hurriedly drawing them open as he flicked off the desk light. The footfalls drew closer, still slow, yet agonisingly so. He grasped at the window's handles, pushing at them, but it wouldn't budge. He shoved it fiercely, but his meek frame couldn't muster the strength needed. Ashlyn, however, was idly standing, trembling. The embarrassment was clear when she noticed him staring at her.

She jumped to the desk as he did and, in tandem, shoved at the window with him. They were strong enough together, yet Ashlyn was too powerful – the window's doors, having not been opened in what seemed like an eternity, were severed from their rusted hinges, descending and smashing on the cobble below. He cringed as the glass snapped like lightning, fragments tinkling on the pavement.

They looked to each other again. Ashlyn seemed more shocked than he, even slightly disappointed, but her emotions held no matter now, and neither did his. He leaped to the arched hole they'd created, but his horns struck the top and he came staggering back into Ashlyn. The dragoness yelped in surprise, claws slipping on the parchment scattered across the desk, and the pair fell from their high position to the floor with a deep thud that could probably be heard for miles, Roland's stolen parchment sliding across the floor.

Ashlyn groaned, but her pained sounds became a gasp when she noticed the desk tipping. Roland was too stunned to move, head spinning. The heavy block of wood the house's owner called a desk slammed into the base of his tail, eliciting a yell of agony from him.

He instinctively lowered his paws to shove it away, but he himself couldn't lift the weight, as though his tail was shackled to the floor. "G-get it off! _A-Ashlyn_!" he screamed, unable to care for his level of noise any longer.

She managed to free her tail that was caught as well as he spoke, luckily not in any real pain, only her scythe-like tail blade having been smashed by the desk. Even under this torture, Roland was shaken by how strong the dragoness was, able to heave it upwards without much effort at all. He scampered away, a tear cascading down his cheek.

Ashlyn hissed once more to keep his noise down – he had trouble with that task, however, and it wouldn't have mattered at this moment in time anyhow. The footfalls had quickened, and it was obvious the dragon outside had heard the crashing from within the small bedroom.

He tried to get up in a last ditch effort to escape – if he couldn't make it through the window, he'd have to use his smaller than average frame to squirm out of their victim's grip – and found he could, but the base of his tail and spine sure hurt and he'd probably be limping for days.

"I... I'm sorry, Roland..." Ashlyn's confidence vanished then. He didn't blame her – they were practically already caught at this point.

"Usually our burglaries are more... _professional_ than this," he struggled to reply. "D-don't blame yourself, we just need to get out of here."

"No, Roland, you–"

"You know, I was actually expecting this."

Ashlyn stopped speaking at once. There was a voice beyond the door, but it was distant, not approaching them. The footsteps had moved on. Roland assumed it was their victim.

"I saw you and that other red dragon snooping around," the male tone said. As Roland struggled to crawl towards the door to hear the conversation better, he wondered if they'd gotten Myrtle instead of him and Ashlyn. "I'm surprised by how lazy the guard's become. They were so _good_ at catching crooks before, but something's made the old guards lose care in everything, and the offices are an absolute mess right now. Maybe it's a lack of conflict. Maybe they're all getting ready for the war overseas. Perhaps that incident in the town square will wake them up."

Ashlyn looked back at the fragments of her tail blade longingly, but turned to Roland the next moment. "He's up the other end of the hall," she whispered. "Let's get out of here. We won't get another chance."

"I-I'm not leaving anyone behind." He gritted his teeth as he spoke. Roland grabbed the wooden handle of the door and pushed it open. Ashlyn gasped in protest but strangely didn't try to stop him. He had no idea what he was walking into. His care for that, however, was minimal.

"Let go of her."

That was what _he_ was about to say, suspecting Myrtle had been trapped by the dragon living here, but it was Drevon who voiced it instead.

Roland walked outside and his eyes quickly met the blue dragon holding Myrtle by the scruff of the neck. She was trying to escape his grip, but couldn't turn to face her captor to blast him with earth energy, nor reach around to dig her sharper implements into him. The electric lantern beside him lit up the red eyes of Myrtle's captor, and the crimson coursing down her neck.

"Let... g-go of me," she coughed, struggling for air. "I... I'll–"

"Wow, there's more of you here than I thought," he interrupted, astonished. For being the victim of their plan in this situation, he was surprisingly nonchalant. "If I wasn't here, I bet all four of you could rob me completely blind."

As he said so, Ashlyn followed Roland, seemingly in surrender. Roland was surprised he knew of Ashlyn, but then wondered if it was him calling her name that'd given it away. The older dragon's eyes met hers, for an extended period of time Roland felt was too long. Then the blue dragon turned to Drevon.

"I told you to let her go!" Drevon repeated, growling. The blue dragon rolled his eyes.

"You don't scare me, purple dragon." He started shifting towards Drevon, Myrtle's struggling beginning to weaken. He towered over Drevon, and when Drevon realised there was no way he could do anything about the situation, he lost the ferocity in his expression. The blue dragon waved Myrtle in front of them as though she were nothing more than a toy. "What are you going to do about this?" The older dragon lowered his face so his red eyes met Drevon's violet. "Are you going to hit me? Kill me, even?"

"Y-you're.. you're gonna kill her," Drevon said in a small voice, backing away. He tried to stand resolute, but his legs shook. He was a purple dragon, one of the strongest creatures in existence, yet here he stood as though he were nothing more than a whelp.

The older dragon squeezed on her neck, blood dripping down the tips of his claws. Myrtle seemed about to pass out. Roland felt his heart hammer in his head. "Do you think I care if she dies?"

For once, Drevon didn't know how to respond to a statement. Tears brimmed his eyes. Roland tried to move, but his legs stood as stiff as boards.

"I thought purple dragons were brave, _powerful_ creatures." The blue dragon laughed. "But you're not Spyro. You're nothing. You could've been so much more, yet you decided this was the life you wanted to live. Everyone forgot about you. No one cares about you. How I pity you."

"I... I-I chose this a-and..." Drevon stopped, the blue dragon chuckling.

"Well, you chose wrong."

Then, he threw Myrtle to the floor with enough force to break a dragon's back. Myrtle barely yelped before blacking out.

"Myrtle!" Roland called, rushing forward to assist her, killing his own spine as he did so. He stopped her from tumbling across the floor, but she was out cold by the time he reached her. He checked his own satchel for spirit gems to halt the blood coursing down her neck, but he had nothing of the sort. They'd all forgotten to bring some in case of emergency.

Roland lost focus on Myrtle when Drevon was jerked into the air, claws wrapped around his neck in much the same position as the green dragoness. He tried to drag Myrtle away from the conflict, but he cried out over his spine and fell to the ground, unsuccessful.

"I could kill you right here if I wanted to," the older dragon said, baring fangs. He jabbed Drevon in the gut with his claw. Roland saw this out of the corner of his eye and winced. "I could rip out everything inside you. I could make you suffer. And you know what? Nobody would know you were dead. I'd have your purple hide thrown over the wall, left to rot and be devoured by the creatures outside Firemore, and nobody would know the difference."

Drevon didn't even try to struggle, tears glistening in his eyes. Roland was reminded of the purple dragon's encounter with Seth, so much that such a thing enraged him, but he didn't allow that anger to consume him. He wanted nothing more than to rush forward and free Drevon, but Roland had a feeling the blue dragon would make what he said a reality if he did...

No, he could only be bluffing, right? Nobody would do that, especially not to a _kid_.

Myrtle was already knocked out in front of him, though, bile rising in his throat over the sickening angle her wings were bent at. If he would do this to Myrtle, then what would he do to Drevon?

What would he do to _him_ when he was done with Drevon? What of Ashlyn, trying her best to hide from the situation?

"You're a thief," the older dragon continued. "Nothing but scum. I remember the day you were born and how everyone paraded around as though you were something special. Nobody remembers you now. Nobody would care if you... _disappeared_." He waved a paw in front of himself to emphasise his point. "That, all because you chose this. I should make them remember why purple dragons were feared in the first place."

Roland was tempted to run away with the three of them in tow, leave Drevon here, but he couldn't. He wasn't leaving without his best friend.

The silence in the room was agonising. Not even a peep from anyone, besides Drevon's soft whimpering. The older dragon seemed to ponder his options.

"You don't want any of this, do you, Drevon?" the blue dragon finally spoke. "You'd rather live, right?"

Drevon didn't answer, petrified. His captor grew impatient waiting, then slammed his back directly into the wall.

"Do you want to _die_?" he hissed. Drevon finally answered with a shake of his head. The monster nodded, then dropped Drevon to the floor and turned away. "Then leave. Get going. Shoo. All of you."

Ashlyn didn't waste any time running from the house, but Roland was bewildered, as was Drevon. Letting them off so easily? After everything he'd already done to hurt them?

"I said _leave_ ," he growled.

Drevon turned and sprinted towards Roland. He tried to ask if Drevon was hurt, but his voice was caught. Instead, Roland helped Myrtle atop the purple dragon's back, and the two ran off together as though this failed robbery had never happened in the first place.

"It'll all come back to bite you soon, Drevon. Mark my words..."


	6. Simply Dashing

Simply Dashing

"I'm fine, Roland." Myrtle winced as she tried to sit up in her bed. "D-don't worry about me. It'll heal up."

Roland hadn't wanted to get out of bed that day. He'd had far too much trouble getting to sleep the last night with his back flaring. The only thing forcing him out of bed was his desire to check on the condition of his friends, especially Myrtle, who'd seemingly broken almost every bone in her wings. Ashlyn had scampered away uninjured, but he couldn't find Drevon anywhere. The purple dragon had been his first priority.

Myrtle's wings were fine now after being mended with the few spirit gems he and the others could scrounge up last night. The factories had always been difficult to get into. Moles took their jobs very seriously. Unfortunately for Myrtle, she probably wouldn't be flying again for a week at the very least.

He couldn't deny just how powerful even a few gems were, though. They had the finesse of a wisened doctor. Watching them do their magic last night, listening to the cracking of bones as they slotted themselves back into place, made him ill, however, much like a real surgeon would. He was thankful she hadn't woken up during the procedure.

"I can't help it. If you'd seen the shape of your wings last night, Myrtle..." He trailed off, shivering slightly. He stopped by the desk beside her bed. He'd asked what was in it once, but Myrtle seemed too embarrassed to tell him. He _did_ have a fair idea, though. "Just imagine every bone in your wing was snapped and twisted. That's what it looked like. I was tempted to take you to an actual doctor."

"Yeah, but I'm okay _now_ , Roly," she said with a hint of irritation. "I'm not in that much–" She cringed at the stabbing in her back again. "–Th-that much pain..."

He shook his head. "You're not very good at lying."

"Well, you're not very good at leaving me alone." Myrtle's tongue was sharp. He was taken slightly aback by her tone. She saw this and put her head in her paws. "Sorry, I... I just don't want you wastin' your time lookin' after me, Roly. I'm fine. Don't understand why you'd want to look after me."

"I'm your friend. I'm not wasting time," he argued. "You looked after me when Seth smashed a chair over my head. Isn't it polite to do the same?"

She exhaled in irritation. "I'm sure you have more important things to do."

Roland was reminded then of Harper's invitation. After the chaos the night before, he'd completely forgotten. He mentally slapped himself. In spite of the doubts he had concerning Harper's hypothesis and prior events, he was excited by Harper's fondness for writing. He'd never met another person who considered writing a hobby. If he had to go for something, _anything_ at all, it would be that.

"You look like you just realised you had somethin' better to do after all," Myrtle said, thin smile spreading across her maw. "Come on, Roland..."

"But–"

"Just _go_!" She threw her paws into the air, grunting as she did so. She retracted them immediately. "Ouch..."

He felt guilty leaving her there on her own, but her decision wouldn't waver. "Fine _._ But I'm checking on you later."

"Goody." She breathed a sigh of relief. "Scram, lanky."

"'Kay, moss-breath," Roland said as he shut Myrtle's door behind him. He supposed she'd be fine. She'd only be sleeping off the throbbing pains in her back, anyway. He definitely worried too much.

"Hey, Roly?" she called from the opposite side of the door. He opened it slightly and popped his head through.

"I thought you wanted to be rid of me..."

"Oh, hush. Has Seth apologised to you yet?"

He frowned. "Um, no... Why?"

Myrtle threw her paw to her bedsheets in defeat. "Damn it, Seth... He seemed a bit concerned after hittin' you with a chair, and I told him he should start apologising. Something about that just ain't him, though. Never wants to admit he's in the wrong, in spite of him knowing it."

"I'll wait until he finds me." Roland wasn't sure he wanted to speak to Seth right now. He was still peeved off about the incident with the chair. "I don't know why he's doing this. He was really nice before. A good friend, even..."

His expression sorrowed, remembering those times he'd spent with the earth dragon. It had only been them before the sewers. Roland had ran from home one night, and after a few nights of freezing and starving because he didn't want his parent's company, he'd met Seth.

He hadn't been the nicest dragon at first; the unfriendly vibe he effused made Roland want to get up and sprint off. Seth had fed him, though, and as Roland started to come back for more, the brown dragon had taught him to purloin the things he desired. A friendship only blossomed from there. Seth had been kind then.

Roland couldn't explain what was happening to him now. Something within him had conjured a fire distorting his personality.

"Are you gonna quit starin' at me?"

His musings were halted by Myrtle's voice. He felt his cheeks warm. "S-sorry. I was in thought. I'll get going."

"Good riddance." She yawned and threw her covers over her body. Roland shut the door. Before leaving her to own devices, however, he stopped a moment, patiently awaiting the thing he anticipated every time he closed her oaken door.

As expected, he heard the string of a harp vibrate on the other side of the door before a melody as beautiful as the celestial moons was strummed upon its frame. It was that embarrassing thing in her chest of drawers, obviously. If it had been any other person, he would be perplexed, but Myrtle enjoyed appearing tougher. When he suggested she might be playing the harp, she shook her head and said it was far too sweet for her.

After she began humming to the chorus, he closed his eyes and listened. It was an old navy song, one of wavering seas. It rose, the beginning of a journey, excitement filling the air. As those naïve souls fell, so did the tune; the few left standing on board mourned those who succumbed to the tides of hardship. It always stuck to his mind, following him down the sewer's corridors.

He was hoping he'd see Drevon on the way out. He must've been out and about today. Considering how early it was, he seemed the least likely to be hovering outside his bedroom, though. The sky was still tinted with orange at this hour.

Harper hadn't actually specified when to arrive, so Roland decided he may as well head out early. Perhaps he could pick something up to eat on the way through the city. Maybe go to that baker he adored where the owner _liked_ him. He didn't have copper on him, but that was no issue for a thief.

As he approached the drop-off into the shimmering waves below, he saw Seth staring blankly into the sky, as though he were waiting for something. Roland would've approached, but after the events a few days ago, he hesitated and a glare settled on his features. Seth heard his feet padding against the stone pathways, though, and turned.

Roland tried to ignore him, wishing to not be derided, but Seth rushed in front of him. This shit-eating grin spread across his maw. Roland wasn't particularly fond of it.

"Hey, Roland," Seth greeted. His tone was overly, unusually friendly. Roland once again attempted to move past him, but Seth caught him with his paw and shoved him back. "Don't you know how to say hi?"

"Hello," he replied, agitated. "I've got somewhere to be."

"Where are you off to?"

Roland sighed. He remembered Myrtle's comments about him telling her he'd apologise. He was still waiting for that. "I'm hunting for copper. What do you want?"

Seth sat on his haunches, licking a paw and running it through his frills. "Oh, I just wanted to know where Drevon was. You seen him by any chance? You are his best friend, after all. He'd tell you anything."

Roland felt his own head scales; the stickiness had vanished, but the dry scab atop his cranium made him feel ill. "No, I haven't." He tried to get going again, opting to use a little force, yet he underestimated Seth's strength when the brown dragon rose a leg and stopped him.

"You're never usually in this much of a hurry. What's so important about stealing more?"

"Look... I was invited somewhere, okay? I need to go."

"Lying isn't a good look, Roland." Seth shook his head in feigned disappointment. "Where, though?"

The red dragon grumbled. "Why do you care so much? Don't you have better things to be doing than waiting for Drevon so you can bash him up?"

"Why would you assume that? I just wanna talk to him."

Anger seeped through the cracks in his attempt to stay calm. "I don't wanna deal with you right now, okay? Get out of my way."

He tried to brush his paw aside, but this time Seth drove his legs into Roland's chest. A spike of pain jolted through his spine. He held his breath, not allowing the yelp attempting to breach his maw to escape.

"Concerned, m-my arse..." he muttered. He rose his voice, fury cracking like a whip. "What the _hell_ has gotten into you?! Why are you being such an arsehole!?"

Everything he'd been able to compliment Seth by had been a lie. He desired nothing more than to kick Seth out of the sewers and be done with him at this point. He knew, however, that nobody would stand up to him. Even Myrtle wasn't strong enough, at least in her current state. Maybe not at all. The thought only fuelled the fire within him. He would have to do it himself.

"Why don't you just leave?"

His comment sparked yet another blaze. The hostile side of Seth slammed into him full force, with a swift thrust of his paw. He wrapped his claws around Roland's neck and pinned him to the ground. Roland felt his back crack again, and the agony of last night flared once more. He gasped, tears brimming in his eyes.

"Ever considered maybe you're the arsehole?"

Roland was dumbfounded. He didn't even consider it for a second. Nothing Seth would say would matter to him. Every last bit was a lie, he knew.

"I do all this stuff for you," Seth said, solemn, "and then it gets tossed into the dirt like it's nothing. You completely forget about me for that fucking walking time bomb you call a friend. That purple dragon is just waiting to explode. How are you not scared of him?"

Roland didn't believe it. Of course, many purple dragons let darkness swallow them, but Drevon wasn't like that. In fact, Drevon was scared of it, that power threatening to consume his mind and soul.

"Even if he doesn't want to turn, it will happen. I'm sure of it. If Spyro had it happen to him when he was old and wise, it'd happen to any purple dragon. Force is the only way to stop Drevon from doing anything. He needs to know his place."

The red dragon stopped focusing on the pain and instead on Seth. He was right about one thing. All purple dragons, whether newly born or crippled by age, had allowed power to swallow every last facet of their personality and replace it with a need to simply destroy.

"F-force..." Roland groaned. "You expect force to stop that? L-leave him... alone."

"Doesn't change the fact you'd abandon your best friend for _that thing_."

Roland had had enough now. His back was on fire and anger rose from his depths once more. "G-get off me, Seth."

"No, I'm–"

"I said _get off!"_ he yelled at the top of his lungs before shoving Seth with all his might. It wouldn't have been enough, if not for Seth underestimating Roland's force. The red dragon sprung to his feet, knocking Seth to the side, panting uncontrollably. Seth gave him a dumbfounded stare.

Despite his gasping, Roland didn't feel like he could breathe. Exerting the last of his strength upon Seth was the final straw for his spine. He was breaking apart, snapping like a branch under foot, or so it felt. Rocketing through his whole body, it was as if that desk had come to a forceful halt at the base of his tail again.

He tried so hard not to burst into tears. Seth would call him a pushover, and then become more violent. It was just like him to injure the wounded...

The scampering of paws found its way to his ear drums, over the focus on his throbbing backbone. He looked to Seth's original position with gleaming eyes and found he was no longer there. The blur from the moisture made it a strenuous task to see more than grey and green splotches, but there, running around the corner of the sewer pipe, was Seth, no more than a mere fleck of brown. He disappeared at once.

Roland was astonished. Had he scared him?

He didn't know, nor did he care, for the throb in his back was more than excruciating, dragging his thoughts back to his spinal cord. He leaned up against a wall for support, but it only helped a slight amount.

As much as Roland didn't want to waste the time of others, he sure was hoping somebody would come around the corner and assist him. Of course, this was the time much of the sewers was uninhabited, not they were inhabited frequently anyway. Many left to be by themselves for a while and steal an amount for the sewers. Nobody would come to his aid.

He heard more paws then, despite his previous notion. They came slowly at first, but eventually quickened into a confused sprint. He rubbed at the tears in his eyes.

"Roland?" Ashlyn spoke. She looked concerned. Who wouldn't be, he realised, when he was standing in the entrance, teeth clenched, eyes probably red from crying. She seemed about to ask if he was okay, but he quickly responded before she could.

"I'm fine."

"C-clearly not!" She grabbed a satchel from her side, emptying the contents at Roland's feet. Two garnet gemstones, glimmering in the soft morning light. His eyes widened of their own accord. These spirit gems were huge! And perfectly cut to boot, creating a crystal of unprecedented energy levels. A rare sight, that was for sure... "Yeah, I know, they're expensive. I stole them from the factories. Seems like I came along at the right time."

He couldn't use such a luxury upon himself, in spite of the pain. "I... I can't. Th-they're too valuable."

She was agitated. She'd put in effort to find such magnificent pieces only to have them rejected by him. "Look, I... I came to say sorry about last night, and I wanted to make up for it with–"

"No, Ash, I can't–"

"Just use the fucking _gems_!" She grabbed one of the crystals and forcefully smashed it against the stone path near him. Roland felt a different pain lurch through his gut as such a perfect gemstone shattered into a billion pieces. They floated nearby him for a moment, locating the area needing treatment, and then rushed into his body through the slots in his scales. He only felt a fraction of the agony he was put under previously as they mended his spine, yet he gasped anyway. The more energy within a spirit gem, the more sudden the transfer of energy. Sometimes it was painful.

Then the pain faded, now no more than a tolerable thud in his back. Normally spirit gems didn't provide such a numbing effect against greater injuries, but this particular gemstone had the power. Any exhaustion from being unable to slumber vanished with his pain.

Ashlyn didn't seem to like being interrupted.

Though, she was immediately apologetic. "S-sorry, I... I-I didn't mean to raise my voice."

He was still exasperated over the fact that she'd chosen _him_ to use the gemstone on. At least they had another. And, well, he couldn't complain now that his pain had disappeared. He'd been pretty reliant on spirit gems thus far.

"It's okay," he said, sighing, lifting the other precious gemstone. "I should probably put my feelings over my lust for money. Oh well. I'll chuck this in the vault later."

There was quiet for a while before Ashlyn eventually spoke up. "What happened, Roland? I mean, other than a desk falling on you."

"Seth's been a complete arsehole lately," he explained with some annoyance. "What he's doing is completely ridiculous. First I learn he's been bullying Drevon – only because he's a purple dragon, I found out today – and now he's been hitting me."

Ashlyn exhaled. "People haven't really liked purple dragons since the first one was born. The Guardians hold a celebration for their birth, and people do come to join in the celebrations, but a lot of people think they're just gonna become the next Dark Master. It's shallow and I don't understand why we can't judge people based on their character and not on something as little as the scales they're born with. Drevon seems... pretty cool, to be honest. I completely forgot he even existed, but I guess I wasn't very old at the time."

"And now he's attacking me for being his friend." Roland turned to the entrance, gazing into cloudless, azure skies. Even the tranquillity of the day outside couldn't calm him completely.

"Some people... They just suck," she said. She stretched and lay upon the pathway, placing a paw beneath her chin. "He... kind of sounds jealous? Scared of something, maybe? Whether it's from Drevon being special, or him not feeling he has any friends, or whatever. When was the last time you and Seth actually did something as friends?"

The question caught him off guard a little. He didn't know. He couldn't remember anything they'd done together in the past seven years. "It's... been a long time."

"Does anyone else hang out with him?"

Roland itched his jaw, then shook his head. "No, not really. He's a bit scary to everyone. He's the oldest and largest out of all of us, and he's never been all that friendly to strangers."

"Then maybe he feels alone," she suggested. "Despite everyone here, perhaps he has no one to turn to but himself."

Ashlyn looked deep in thought. Roland was beginning to wonder if her timid nature were simply a farce atop a layer of thoughtfulness and confidence.

What she was saying made him feel as though it was his fault, though. Because he wasn't being friendly enough, even saying a simple hi often enough. "Maybe I should've been hanging out with him more..."

"You're not obligated to do anything." She looked to him, a gentle smile on her maw. He eyed the ground, then the blue yonder once more. "If he wants friends, he has to earn them. He can't expect people to just want to be with him. He's not doing himself any favours with the way he's been acting."

He nodded and returned her smirk. "You're pretty smart, you know that?"

"R-really?" she asked, as though boggled by the thought of her being anything. If not for her scales, her flushing would've been obvious. "N-no, I'm... Don't take my word for it. He could be anything else."

"No, you're smart. I like that." He was about to pat on her the back with a wing, but he'd noted she would visibly flinch whenever she was touched. She probably didn't like it. "Anyway... why are you here? And why are you up so early?"

"I... I actually came here to apologise for the way I acted and confused you all last night," she admitted, adopting an apologetic look. "I thought I could do that with some spirit gems. I went to your room and you weren't there, so I came here. I heard Seth walk past the little crevice I like to sleep in, too. He's really loud."

Roland looked at the crystal in his paws. He could feel the energy within from just holding it. He wondered just how excited Myrtle would be to obtain such an extraordinary piece, to add to her collection to overload her senses with.

Then he looked to Ashlyn. She had been acting strangely last night, but apparently to warn them all. Odd how she must've already known he was in there by the look on her face when they were outside. "I see. You kind of did seem like you knew the guy. The way he looked at you..."

"Yeah, I did," she blurted out. "My dad knew him."

"Okay. Why didn't you say anything before we went outside? You seemed like you knew he was in there."

She looked to the floor, leaning against the side of the pipe. "That's what I came to apologise for. That one's on me. I should've said something, but I was too shocked we were invading _his_ home. I... I'm sorry for getting you all hurt."

He exhaled, shrugging. "It's in the past now. Whatever. Apology accepted. We'll just move on to the next building in a few days' time, and we'll make up for it... Also, you probably don't want to lean against that. It's had, uh..."

"Oh, shit." She wiped a paw down her side and shook it wildly into the waves below. Luckily, the excrement wasn't damp.

"Literally." He chuckled. He looked to skies again and decided it was about time he headed out. "Hey, I've gotta get going. I'm heading to Harper's place."

Ashlyn nodded. "Y-yeah, you were talking about that." She put a claw to her chin. "Actually... can I tag along for a bit? I'm... just getting kinda bored."

"Um, no," he said. Ashlyn's expression sorrowed and she looked about to open her mouth to send him off, but he intervened. "I-I mean, not that I don't _want_ you to. I'd just be walking the whole way. Those spirit gems might've numbed the pain, but it might just come back if I start flying."

"I don't mind," she said. "It'd be pretty boring walking all the way from here to Firemore by yourself."

"Are you sure? It's gonna be a long walk..."

"I want to come!" she exclaimed. "I want to talk to you a bit more. You're... kinda the only one I feel comfortable around at the moment. Besides Carolin."

He rolled his eyes. "Okay, fine... We could buy something on the way maybe."

"Are you... you sure you want to _buy_ something? Won't people know who you are?" She cocked her head and looked to the water. "A-and how are you going to get down without flying?"

"Guess I'll have to use my sore muscles." He shrugged. "And it's fine. I know a back-alley baker who treats street rats like me with a little respect."

"Alright then. Let's get going."

He grinned, taking the first step out of the steel pipe. "We can call it a date."

"A wh-what?"

"Never mind! Come on!"

* * *

This was the best time of day to look upon the city, Roland found. The rising sun's golden fingers caressed Firemore's stone spires and mansions. From the top of the structure he was perched upon, the city glimmered a radiant gold. Even his grimy scales gleamed in the light. Ashlyn's shone as though she were polished marble. Somehow she still managed to keep every notch in her scales free from sewer grime.

Flying had been a bit less strenuous than he'd expected. Even now he was astonished by the energy contained within such a small, perfectly cut crystal. Ashlyn had briefly mentioned the dark bags beneath his eyes and told him they'd finally disappeared. He looked rejuvenated, she'd said, and he felt it too. Even for a night he'd missed being able to fly across the city, not a care for even the law that said he couldn't.

He'd only been flying for one reason, however. It was to find a vantage point, for something was happening within Firemore. A crowd was gathering. A distant, rhythmic thumping thundered through the city's walls. He didn't have to wonder for long what it was.

"What's happening?" Ashlyn questioned him, squinting into the crowds. She pulled back a second later. "Wait. Are they..."

"I think so," he said, grimly. "That's a march. They're off to war."

As he spoke, Roland spotted the first set of steel armour step around the corner, a dragon contained within. It was unlike the lighter, more presentable set the guards of Firemore donned. It was bland, yet threatening. The only feature resembling detail was the emblem of a phoenix sketched upon their spine and chest. It was regarded as no more than a symbol to discern them from other armies, but the mythical fire bird had always held a special place in the heart of Firemore's residents. It was a blaze that had brought their city back to life after all, after it was stolen by the apes in the heat of conflict centuries ago.

The first row marched around the corner, like machines, moving in perfect unison. They were metallic copies of each other. If he hadn't known what a set of armour was, he'd truly think they were no more than automatons. They just looked so... lifeless. It was like something wasn't there.

They weren't a dragon in that set of armour. They were just another soldier, an expendable resource. It wasn't like the Assembly, their opposition would care much for the face beneath the mask. The ice dragons and polar leopards of the Assembly probably felt just as expendable.

Cheetahs came after several rows of dragons. They were the same: covered in metallic plates, hiding their appearance from view. They carried E.F.'s, elemental firearms. Each segment was broken up into the element they carried; fire, thunder, earth, and ice. He wondered for a minute if Harper was in those ranks, but the cheetah had seemed too old to be conscripted into their armies.

He then thought about whether this conscription was why the guards no longer cared for him. Did this mean the city of Firemore would be without guards? Sure, he was a thief and was breaking the law with every moment he stood, but with nobody to enforce laws their city would fall into anarchy!

"I never realised Firemore had so many guards," Ashlyn murmured. It wasn't regular people who became conscripts in this case, not like the Assembly. It was the guards of their city. To think there were thousands here, and then even _more_ in Warfang and Shimmervale. So many people joined their guard just to get in on the war.

There weren't that many before today. To think they all desired death on the front lines of Koskos, charging through the Assembly ranks securing the city of Lingrad...

Was war a joke to them? Had the centuries the Dragon Realms spent fighting been completely forgotten? Maybe there was something he wasn't getting about all this.

"No, they joined the guard recently, maybe even yesterday. They march like any soldier, are as threatening as any soldier... but they're only untrained rookies." He sighed. Ashlyn stared blankly into the march. There was this look of fear around her, though it was slight. "They only wanted in on the war. I guess they were in need of new conscripts in Koskos."

"They have no idea..." She trailed off. Roland creased his brow.

"No idea about what?"

"D-don't worry." She sat on her haunches, beating an impatient rhythm into the spire with her foot. "A-anyway, are we gonna get going? The crowds seem a little preoccupied with the army in front of them right now, yelling and cheering like that. They won't notice the _elusive_ Red Rodent scampering through Firemore."

He grinned at her use of words. Even she would know about him and his nefarious deeds. It went to show his infamy. He loved that attention. He wished he could receive it for his other hobbies, though. Unfortunately, there was no way a grimy little rat like him could publish a book. "Alright." He jumped to the balcony below them. "I'll have to tell Drevon about this, you know. He's _obsessed_ with the war."

Ashlyn clambered down the side after him. She shook her head in what he assumed was disgust. "How can you be obsessed with... _death_ like that?"

"Ask the people throwing their lives away," Roland responded, pointing with a claw to the animated steel marching through Firemore. He landed at the foot of the golden spire. He smirked weakly as she alighted beside him. "I mean, we _are_ headed that way now..."

"N-no!" she answered, taken aback. "They'd probably deck me!"

"You look strong enough to hit them back," he reasoned, shrugging innocently. He was tempted to call out to one of them for their attention, but he was able to restrain himself. A glare from the ice dragoness burned at the back of his skull.

By the time they reached the main street and the gathering, the beginning of the vastly shorter mole lines were passing, most of the army having exited via the main gate. There was many a male dragon or cheetah that had a regretful look about them, as though they believed they were doing their nation a disservice by not fighting a war. The fact that so many of the dragons he saw with that look were almost as young as he astonished him. So young, and yet so eager to just throw away everything and die in the cold, bleeding and broken, alone.

"Is it a sense of pride, to join the cause like this?" he asked himself, slithering through the shadows with guile. For never having trained to be stealthy, Ashlyn seemed a master at keeping to the darkness.

"You shouldn't be proud of killing anyone," she said. "Y-you're sick if you are."

Roland stopped to lurk in the shadow of an alleyway, Ashlyn bumping into him, caught up in her thoughts. Her eyes darted to the ground in embarrassment. A smile grew on his muzzle, but he ignored the interaction for the most part. "Maybe killing the people trying to freeze the world over is enough justification."

"Enemy or not, killing is killing, and it's never a good thing." She sat on her haunches after a minute of standing. Roland was thinking, an idea flitting around his mind, a way to make up for the horrid experience the night before.

He studied a mole ahead of him, a stubby little thing, even for one of those mammals. The mole was only a boy, watching the crowd in awe. He did seem alone for a moment, which was worrying, but the red dragonfly perched atop his shoulder was reassuring. The two spoke in suppressed, excited voices.

Roland was more focused on the satchel at the boy's waist, tantalising in the breeze as it swayed. It was only small, but it looked packed with copper, and the boy's sophisticated taste in clothing made that pouch all the more alluring.

"Why are you looking at that mole like that?" Ashlyn asked. A mischievous grin pulled at Roland's maw.

"Last night was supposed to be a taster of what we wanted you to do while living with us," he started, "but that blue dragon showing up kind of ruined your first time. So, now that we're in town, need money for the bakery, and you haven't stolen anything for us yet, how about you try pick-pocketing that little boy? Should be a piece of a cake."

"What? I can't... H-he's way too young," she complained. Roland wasn't having any of it, though.

"He also looks rich." The red dragon leaned his back against the wall, folding his paws. "C'mon, I've stolen from babies before..."

"B-but I...I m-might hurt him! I might ch-choke him trying to pull the satchel off or–"

"You _won't_ hurt him. Besides, you're a _thief._ " He gave her a nudge in the mole's direction. The last lines of the army were going now, and the first dragons of the crowd were wandering elsewhere. "Come on, we don't have much time! I'll... revoke your privileges to the bakery later if you don't..."

"Ugh, fine." He was only bluffing, but it paid off. Seemed she enjoyed food.

She wasted no time in getting it over with. She paced towards her target, adopting the position she'd placed herself in to keep up with Roland earlier. He readied himself to sprint into the alleyway behind him and scale the wall at the end.

Watching her at work reminded him of himself. Her words made her sound like a rookie, but her actions said otherwise. She slunk towards her prey with finesse he didn't see in even Myrtle. Her paws issued not a noise. If he hadn't seen her he'd think she was merely gliding across the cobble.

She wrapped a toe around the dangling band holding the pouch to the boy's waist. He didn't notice, her light touch imperceptible.

Then Roland remembered one detail, a single one that would ruin their entire plan. He was too late to voice it.

"Hey!" cried red dragonfly atop the boy's shoulder. "Paws off!"

Ashlyn gasped, then not a second too soon from the mole twirling around, she cut the satchel from his neck and snatched it away, sending it hurtling towards Roland. The red dragon nearly choked catching it in his maw, almost buckling over in fright. He broke into a sprint, scaling the wall in the alleyway as fast as a spider with jet engines. Ashlyn was only moments behind him.

He jarred his feet with the force of landing, but the temporary pain he didn't mind. Anything for money, he'd always think. He rushed around the corner into an empty street, laying his eyes upon a convenient crevice carved into the spire beside the alleyway. Roland dove into the darkness of the hole.

The faint scent of excrement lingered in the air. The thin outline of a pipe beside him brought him to the conclusion this hole was dug so the sewage pipe could be reached.

Ashlyn fell to her backside and slipped in after him, missing him only by centimetres. There was quiet, apart from her soft, still breathing, like a statue murmuring.

He heard little wings flutter outside the hole, red sparks falling and clashing with the cobblestone. They were bright enough to barely light Roland's face. He held his breath, his heart pounding against his chest...

Why was he scared? It was only a _dragonfly_. He almost scoffed at himself, but remembered he needed to keep vocals to a minimum.

"Ancestors, Averie's gonna kill me," the dragonfly said. It was only a moment before the vague buzz vanished and the sparks ceased to live.

Roland took the slobbery satchel from his mouth and smiled, his voice a whisper. "Wasn't that exhilarating?"

"I..." Ashlyn sighed. "I feel bad for the kid and that dragonfly. B-but it really was, for the few seconds it lasted! I... k-kinda liked it."

"Don't feel bad. I'm sure they didn't need it anyway." He shook the satchel for good measure. Coins jingled inside; enough for the baker, and perhaps a few other things for himself. "Better we get a feed than whatever that dragonfly and mole were planning on getting. Nobody'll miss these coins."

"E-except that Averie person..." She began to scamper outside, but stopped herself some steps later. "Do you think it's safe to head out now?"

"Probably." He shrugged. "We'll see. Let's hope he's not just waiting around outside for us."

She was reluctant to move after his words. Roland noticed her unease and giggled reassuringly. "Don't worry, I'm sure he's long gone."

He followed her outside the crevice, bending and stretching his limbs, glad to stand striaght again. The hole had been a tight fit for even his attenuated figure.

He peered both ways to be certain the dragonfly had disappeared without his mole friend's satchel in tow. It'd happened before, that he'd await for his victim's departure, only to have the prize he'd deserved stolen away from him (and head smacked if he didn't move). Luckily, the dragonfly didn't seem to be around any more and he could–

Shock came from Ashlyn's maw in the form of a gasp, and Roland turned with his eyes wide. The red dragonfly soared far from them, grinning like a fool. "Suckers!" he yelled before flitting away.

"He took my _ring_!" she screamed before blasting into the air like cannon fire, fury in every beat of her wings. Roland took a few seconds to react, dumbfounded by how suddenly the dragonfly had taken their joy and shoved it up their arses. He'd say an eye for an eye in any other circumstance, but this felt like an eye for his entire being.

That ring had been worth something to Ashlyn, he knew. He took after the red gnat and his blue aggressor after biting down on the satchel again. Somebody could catch him soaring through the air. His care was less than minimal, though. A twinge of pain rushed through his back, and he ignored it.

The two hadn't gone high; he felt his tail brush past a spire. The harsh wind atop the wall bit at his face. He tried his best to stay on course, but the wind constantly tried to jerk and yank him elsewhere.

Though that wind easily knocked the dragonfly from his position in the sky. It came at the expense of Ashlyn, however, because she stopped suddenly, unable to locate the dragonfly probably careening towards a building.

"Where'd he go!?" She scanned the skies and the city below. He caught up with her and couldn't help but have a pit form in his stomach when he saw the look of distress on her features. "When I get my paws on him..."

"Ashlyn, I'm so-" He took the satchel out of his maw and tried to speak, but he was cut off by Ashlyn dashing towards Firemore once more.

"Down there!" Roland barely heard her yell. He followed, endeavouring to keep up with her determination. The dragons almost hit a spire with how quickly they banked. He'd never flown so fast in his life. His wings felt incapable of toughing this out, but he soared like his life depended on it.

It was like Ashlyn's life _did_ depend on getting that ring back, though...

He saw the glowing insect charge through a yellowy spire's window, slightly ajar to allow entrance to the breeze. He thought Ashlyn would stop there, but his jaw almost fell from his skull when she smashed straight through it with the entire force of her body. The shattering could be heard from miles away.

Roland almost decided to follow her, but he had a better idea, knowing someone as hardy as her would be fine. Instead, he landed upon the roof and awaited the opportune moment to strike. And he took the opportunity when he saw it.

The red dragonfly, ring in his pencil-thin arms, soared through the spire's chimney. Roland only had to extend his leg to snatch the insect right out of the air. He'd done it before to a dragonfly, and it had worked once again.

The dragonfly wriggled and squirmed, like a fly failing to escape from its demise within a web. A grin grew on his muzzle, but his guilt for starting this remained. He heard Ashlyn panting below, desperately searching for her target.

"Let go of me, you overgrown salamander!" the insect protested. Roland shook his head and hovered in front of the window. He decided to wait until Ashlyn had thrown the plywood desk inside the office into the corner before he made his entrance. "Let _go_!"

Ashlyn stared at Roland in absolute relief when she heard the dragonfly speak. He yanked the golden ring from the insect's grip, much to the dragonfly's chagrin, passing it to her and seating himself on the carpeted floor. He then forced the insect into the wall behind him.

"Ancestors, I thought I'd actually lost it." She slotted it back onto her toe, where it belonged. "Thanks for catching him, Roland."

"Don't thank me," he responded, throwing the pouch to the ground. "We have a little gnat to deal with."

"Look, you've gotten what you wanted," the dragonfly reasoned. "Just let me go, Red Rodent. You two started all this!"

"Hm..." Roland put a claw to his chin. "Nah. What's your name?"

The dragonfly frowned. "Why should I tell you?"

"I'll call you gnat instead then." Roland shrugged. The insect exhaled.

"...Dash."

Roland smirked. "That's pretty funny, Dash, considering how fast how you are."

"I've heard that a million times, lanky."

"And I've heard that one a million times." He laughed. The dragonfly's expression continued to sour. That look of 'not impressed' on his face cracked Roland up. He felt it best to spark some conversation with his victim before he started getting too mad, though. "A-anyway... What brings a dragonfly like you to Firemore? I thought you guys kept to the mushroom swamp and the Silver River."

"I was hunting for trolls." Dash folded his arms and rested them upon Roland's paw. He flicked them off, though, much to the dragonfly's annoyance and Roland's amusement.

"C'mon. It's not like you have much to lose telling me..." Roland's expression soured in feigned disappointment.

"Ugh, fine," he said. How quickly he was convinced caught Roland off-guard. "I got bored of the food-gathering and sleeping back home. Felt like adventure... Most people come to Firemore because they're travelling elsewhere. Except you. You smell like you haven't left your basement in sixteen years."

"Don't have a basement, Dash."

"Who cares? You smell like shit. Like, _actual_ shit, dude."

"Eh, it's not that bad."

"I can tell why they called you a rodent. You smell like one."

"You're hilarious, Dashie." Roland beamed. He then looked at Ashlyn. "What were you planning on doing with Dash here, Ash? You said something back there you didn't finish."

She eyed the red dragon in a bit of surprise, so focused on the gleaming ring on her toe. "I, uh... W-we'll let him go, I guess."

"Aw, that's no fun," he said, almost saddened by her response. His smile didn't waver, however. "It sounded like you wanted to kill him earlier."

"You two stole our satchel first." Dash shook his head. "You both deserved it. I would've sold that ring if you hadn't put me up against this here wall."

Roland saw anger spark in her eyes at his statement. The mere thought of turning the ring into copper was enough to light a drenched fuse for her.

"Don't think she'd have the guts to kill little old me anyway..."

Ashlyn paced towards the dragonfly, snatching him from Roland's paw. The dragonfly's face turned a ghostly white. "Actually, I think I'll gut him, Roland."

"Woah, easy." Roland couldn't help letting out a chuckle. Not like her to kill somebody, even over her precious ring. "Don't hurt the poor guy."

"I'll turn you to paste if I ever see you again," she snarled. "Got it?"

The dragonfly nodded quickly. Even Roland was startled by her hostility. "G-got it..."

"Good. Now shoo." The insect fell to the ground from her paws, hurrying away without another peep, his desire to obtain his satchel thrown to the flames.

Roland finally shifted his eyes to the carpet, culpability getting the better of him.

He exhaled. "I shouldn't have even suggested going after that mole," he said. "I _saw_ the dragonfly there! But I was too stupid to realise he'd ruin it all. Sorry for giving you all that trouble."

Ashlyn actually giggled softly. "It's fine. Whatever. I had fun stealing from the mole. Honestly, I should've realised the dragonfly was there myself. I wasn't careful enough..."

There came a stomping from the ground floor, up the yellowy stairs leading to the office above. A large yellow dragon halted in front of them; Roland could see the fury brewing in his eyes, the demons he was about unleash upon the two of them.

"WHAT IN THE NAME OF THE FUCKING ANCESTORS HAVE YOU DONE TO MY _OFFICE?!"_

"Uh oh." Roland made his exit, dodging the crystalline spikes littered across the carpet and the desk thrown to the side, by diving through the window. Ashlyn rushed after him with the satchel in her mouth. Fortunately, the dragon didn't literally explode into a thunderstorm over anger; rage did cause dragon furies, after all.

He landed atop another spire a minute's flight from the unexpected entrance Ashlyn had made. A crowd now flooded the streets in a sea of colours; the march of Firemore's army had ended, and they now left upon a vessel to confront the Assembly at Lingrad.

Ashlyn lighted beside him. The joy on her expression was confusing, although it lifted his own mood too.

"You look really happy," he observed a moment later. Ashlyn nodded.

"Well, I've... had a lot of fun with you." She shrugged. " More fun than I've had in any amount of time. I know, I was kind of angry when he stole my ring, but I wouldn't have stopped chasing him, and his reaction to be threatened was priceless in the end."

His heart fluttered a little. Being a good friend to anyone was the best feeling in his opinion. "That's good to hear, Ashlyn."

"I just... Ugh, how do I..."

"What is it?"

"It's... never mind." She shrugged. Roland looked into her, her transparency obvious. Whatever was on the other side of the window she'd taken to becoming was cloudy, however. "I forgot."

"...Okay. How's about we get some food, then? I've been starving all morning."

She bent down, flapping her wings. "Alright. I am too."

"Last one there's a rotten piggle!" He shot past her, a bullet in the sky.

"B-but I don't know where to go!"

"Just follow me, then!"


	7. A Phoenix Ablaze

A Phoenix Ablaze

Roland took the last bite of his apple pie and threw its metallic tray to the cobblestone, then studied the slip of paper in his paws. _99 Firespark Row_. The house was far from the central districts where the wealthy lived, and instead lay close to the edge of the wall. Each building was no more than a few rooms inside, large enough to house a dragon, if they were comfortable with being a little cramped. Most of the buildings were built before the wall, their flaws and cracks revealed by age, but Harper's looked particularly ancient, almost like an old farmhouse. The white paint dried over the planks was chipping, revealing their brown flesh.

Two iron numbers were welded to the door, both nines. He guessed this was the one. It didn't exactly live up to the cheetah living within its walls, who he'd felt was fancy, even for a guard.

A hollow ringing echoed through the walls of Harper's home as he pressed the button on the door. He ran a paw through his grimy frills then wiped the dirt from his scales. He ought to be as acceptable as possible entering the cheetah's home, not that he'd ever be as flawlessly clean as somebody like Ashlyn. The red dragon couldn't shake the feeling of fear, though, worry that something wasn't going to go his way. That perhaps this visit was only a farce to ambush him.

He'd had a few thoughts about heading back to the sewers with Ashlyn, who'd decided it best to not see Harper and need to talk about the fate her parents had met, as she thought he'd ask about her father. It was only the chain of curiosity tightened around his neck that yanked him ever closer.

He almost wanted to pick the lock on that chain and sprint far, far from the home, but as he heard walking inside the house, he knew he couldn't. A knock-and-run wouldn't make a good first impression.

The walking was strange, though. The cats of the Dragon Realms and beyond were bipedal, but he could tell these feet belonged to a quadruped, a dragon pacing towards the door. Did he have the wrong house?

The decrepit wooden sign on the end of the street should've been reassuring. _Firespark Row,_ painted messily in white _._ He didn't feel at all reassured he was standing on the doorstep of the correct house.

He turned to make his move, but his time for a decision came to a swift close. The door swung open, revealing the figure of a dragoness about his height. He swallowed hard.

"Hello?" the dragoness spoke, her voice lightly accented. She must not have been from around here. Roland wasn't able to tell from appearance, though, since his eyes were on the floor in embarrassment. All of this must've been a sham. Harper had only been leading him on.

"I, uh... I must have the wrong home." He shrugged. For the first time he hoped his name hadn't stretched further than the market square. This area of Firemore was unfamiliar to him. "S-sorr–"

"Oh, wait, you must be Roland! Harper was telling me about you! No, you don't have the wrong home."

He breathed a sigh of relief. The cheetah had a dragon by his side as well, then. A servant? Adopted child? Whatever she was, he was glad he didn't just knock on some stranger's door.

"So, you were expecting me?" He finally looked up at her. "I thought Harper would come out to me meet me, but I guess he's not..."

He stopped. He felt like his eyes were deceiving him. No dragon could be _that_ beautiful. "...here."

Roland almost squinted to better grasp her image. Her scales shone a radiant gold, her eyes like polished topaz. Her beauty was a crystal cut to perfection, flawless, endlessly polished to the point where nothing more could be achieved. A marvel to behold, a masterpiece created by the most talented gem cutter. He was beyond astonished.

"No, he's out at the moment," she said, snapping him out of his trance. He remained stupefied by her jaw-dropping appearance. He did his best to keep his cool. Don't be weird, he repeated to himself. "He'll be back soon, though, don't worry!" She stood to the side and bowed her head and paw. "Come in. Make yourself at home, Roland."

He was surprised by her gesture. Clearly, she'd taken after Harper's manners. He thought he should've been the one bowing to her.

He paced inside and found it was quite clean, a contrast from the house's poorer exterior, probably the work of the dragoness if he had to guess. There was a long lounge in the centre of the room surrounded by two smaller recliners, cabinets and pictures on the wall ahead of them to eye when uninterested in conversing, and a desk tucked away in the corner with dozens of scrolls splayed across the top like a thin blanket. There was a cabinet full of varying bottles of scotch and antique glasses and bowls, a coffee table in front of the lounge if a cheetah ever felt like putting up tired legs, a fireplace speckled with soot from recent use. The kitchen was further away, but barrels of all sorts were held within as well as an old stove and basket of recently bought firewood. The scent of fresh cookies wafted through the air.

From what he could gather, the home was, at the very least, _comfortable_.

Despite his loss for words over the dragoness, he tried to spark some conversation. "I, uh... d-didn't catch your name back there."

The yellow dragoness gasped weakly, catching up to him with a jog. "Where are my manners!? My name's Tristana, but you can just call me Tris. Lovely to meet you."

She offered a paw to shake. He almost took it, but touching her with such grimy paws would be a disgrace to her appearance. "Uh, maybe not... I'm not clean. Wouldn't wanna ruin those scales you have."

Tris pulled away in understanding, though snickered lightly. He nearly slapped himself. "Oh, I see. I could run out a bath for you, if you like, or I could–"

"N-no, it's fine," he responded. "Where can I, um... wait for him, Tris?"

"Take a seat on the lounge!" Grinning, she gestured towards the couch. He did as he was told. The leather was surprisingly comfortable. By the time he'd fallen deep into the couch, Tris had returned with a tray of biscuits. "Cookie? I'll be happy to serve you."

He lost interest in her appearance for a moment and instead eyed her with some concern. "Did you say you would _serve_ me?"

"That I did." She didn't seem to have any problem with that. Roland could only frown. He couldn't imagine serving even the creators of their universe, the Ancestors.

"Well, uh... sure." He was sure they weren't poisoned, given her hospitality. He nibbled on the top. Chocolate, crunchy, honeyed heaven. They were no less than divine. "Do you work as a maid or housekeeper or something?"

"I _am_ an adopted dragon," she answered. "But I do a lot of the housework, considering Harper's out doing guard and writing stuff a lot of the time... Is there anything you want or need right now, Roland?"

He put a claw to his chin but there was nothing he desired even remotely important, especially not anything from here. "I, uh... I guess you could..." He felt his face start to burn up. By the time he left Harper's home, he'd be only a cinder with how scorching his cheeks were. "...could sit next to me and wait for Harper."

"Out of all the guests Harper has had," she began, "you're definitely the easiest. All the others are like 'get me this' and 'do that'. I don't mind if I do." She climbed on top of the plush surface, a breath of contentment leaving her lips. "I hope you don't mind me saying so, but... you're also one of the awkwardest."

"I am!?" He sat up straight, worried he wasn't making a good impression with this dragoness. "S-sorry if I'm being awkward, it's just, uh... Look. You're, um... Sort of, just _maybe_... You know..."

She giggled and cupped her mouth with a paw. "You're cute, Roland. But don't get the wrong idea. I'm... not exactly interested in men."

He shoved his paws into his face. His cheeks were red-hot, almost an ashen mess. "I am _such_ an idiot... Sorry." But, honestly, he was sort of glad she had said that now. He'd be fawning over her non-stop otherwise, and that, he knew from awful narratives, would at the very least irritate her and everybody else. He found her words in good humour as well, though, and laughed with her as she did, although in mortification. "I'll... keep that in mind, Tris."

"I honestly don't see myself as _that_ good-looking," she said. " I don't really get it. All the guys my age approach me at the academy, and I can't help but reject them all. Some of them can't take a hint. They think I'm lying to them."

He nodded. "Sounds annoying."

"I've never met a girl who feels the same way as me. My brother always used to tell me the right person would come, though. He was a cheetah."

"A cheetah for a brother. What's he like?" He looked at the wall in front of him. The bland white brushed over the timber would've bored him if not for the colourful array of pictures and cabinets to stare at. There were plenty of portraits of a cub, sketched in masterful detail. The face from the market square, when the dreadwing had wrought terror upon many a soul... He couldn't forget that face, ripped to shreds, torn away from their world in an instant.

He sighed, realising his wording was awful. "I-I'm sorry, I didn't mean to bring up... that."

"I was never really close to him," she intervened. "He... ended up not being the nicest individual, especially to me. It's okay." Her thin veil of sorrow revealed a comforting smile. "Just don't mention Pride around Harper. He's going through quite a bit right now. I believe you were there when he..."

"Yeah, I was..." That screech echoed in his mind like he'd been there yesterday. Just thinking about it made him shiver... He wondered if those affected by the fear-inducing screams of the dreadwing had come to their senses again. Harper had said they needed serious assistance.

"Anyway..." Tris clapped her paws together, and then pointed at the red dragon. "Enough about me. What about you?"

"I'm, um... not very interesting," he admitted. He felt it was true despite how interested everyone was in despising everything he lived for. "Just a street rat. Sort of infamous around the market square. Live outside. That'd be why I smell so bad."

She sniffed the air and only shrugged her shoulders. "You don't smell _that_ bad for being somebody who lives out there... How does living out there treat you, if you don't mind me asking?"

"I love it." Roland truly did. It was the best thing he could ask for. He had a deep affection for the art of thievery and the freedom that allowed him to do whatever he so desired, within reason. Firemore was like a seashell to many, a thing to pass by and gaze upon once, and then throw away. But he'd looked deeper within and found a pearl, a vast playground only he realised was there.

With how things had been going recently, though... He sort of did wish he could take a break from it all and stay somewhere more pleasant then the sewers of Firemore. Sure, he had a bed unlike plenty of the other thieves residing within the sewers' expansive pipework, who probably found it more uncomfortable than he, but it wasn't like he couldn't complain.

And, even if he did enjoy his time inside the sewers of Firemore, he couldn't help but miss the parents he'd left behind... He wondered how his father. _If_ he was faring...

"Is it... hard?" Tris asked, her paw resting beneath her chin as she sprawled on the long couch. Her genuine interest in his life surprised him.

"No, not really... There's been a little infighting between us all, but I'm sure everything will be back to normal soon." Or so he hoped. Seth couldn't keep doing this forever. It needed to stop. It felt like it would fall upon him to stop Seth, considering he held the closest connection.

"Oh, so there's a bunch of you! That must make it easier. Where do you all stay then?"

"I can't say," he told her. "Harper's probably told you I'm a thief. You know I'm a criminal. It'd be stupid to give away my information to someone who could easily get us all into gaol for a few days. And then we'd have to move somewhere else."

"Wait, it's the sewers, isn't it?"

Roland felt his heart plunge into the depths of his stomach. It hadn't been that obvious to _anyone_ _at all_! "...How in the name of the Ancestors do you know _that_?"

She laughed heartily. He expected it to be mocking, yet it was only in good humour. "I've seen some young dragons fly over the wall near the huge pipe that we drop all the sewage into. Don't worry, I won't tell anyone. I don't want to make your life miserable. Plus, the guard doesn't really do much about children, or so Harper tells me. We still live under the law of the late high king, Spyro, after all. I'm surprised King Amory hasn't bothered to do anything about it. They're _too_ easy on us kids, and all because Spyro had a difficult life when he was young... Weird how they give someone so much power to just change the law like that."

"Kids are treated pretty well over here, I will admit..." Before he could continue, Roland heard the door creak open, an armoured body stepping through the doorway. The cheetah was puffing, as if he'd been sprinting. He removed his broad hat and hung it on the rack beside the door.

Noticing Roland's presence, Harper bowed shortly, then set his sheathed blade upon the desk stacked with papers. The cheetah bled from a mark on his arm. Roland couldn't tell exactly from his distance, but it looked like a stab wound. "I will admit I was wondering if you would show up! I apologise for my absence. Two moles were arguing over some woman, and it... got a little messy. Nobody was seriously hurt, thankfully."

"Harper!" Tris leaped off the couch and skidded in front of him. "Y-you're bleeding... Wait here, I'll find a bandage and some paraneda herb."

"Tristana, there's no need for a–" The cheetah was cut off by her scampering through the house in search of something to apply to his scrape. He scowled. "Bandage..." He paced over to one of the recliners and took a seat, grabbing a miniature glass with a dribble of scotch resting inside it. He swirled the drink idly within his paw. "She's quite protective of me, if you hadn't noticed. I come back with the most minor of cuts, and she'll eye it like I've almost died."

Roland raised a brow. "Well, at least someone cares about you. Plus, it... does look pretty serious. You've been stabbed."

"I suppose... Nothing more than a flesh wound, however." Harper finished his leftover drink and took to pouring another with the half-empty bottle beside him. "Would you care for a glass of scotch, Roland?"

"I'm a bit young for alcohol," Roland said, though he was curious as to its taste. He was wary of Harper trying to get him drunk, however. Even a couple glasses would make a dragon as young as he merry.

Harper smirked, already tipping the bottle into another glass. "I'm well aware of how much a dragon like you can drink. Only a little bit, not too much..."

Roland peered out the window. The sun hadn't managed to clamber over even the wall yet. "It's a little early for drinking, don't you think?"

"It's a special occasion!" the cheetah exclaimed, holding the glass in front of the red dragon. Roland was tempted, despite his disagreement. "Come on, just try some. You won't regret it."

He breathed a sigh, pressure finally breaking through the wall of reluctance he'd erected for himself. "Fine. But I'm not drinking _all_ of that."

Harper only grinned, handing him the glass. Roland swirled the amber liquid around its thin walls. It was almost like ginger beer in colour, possibly his favourite drink, even if his time spent drinking it was little. It was shockingly sweet when he took the first swig, but it burned like poison oozing down his throat the next moment. Half of it came flying out of his mouth as he spluttered.

"It's not _fizzy drink_. Don't guzzle it down like that." Harper chortled at Roland's expense. The dragon almost glared. "Anyhow, I didn't invite you here to sit down and drink. We're here to talk about _dreadwings_ , remember?"

Just as Harper had grabbed two books on the table – one was unimaginatively titled _Elemental Signatures,_ and the other seemed to be about mythical creatures _–_ Tris came sprinting through the doorway to the kitchen, a bandage and some odd leaves clasped firmly in her paw.

She stopped at Harper's foot. "I'm gonna need you to kneel, Harper. You're too tall for me.

"Alright, alright." The cheetah did as he was told, setting the two books down in front of him. Tris applied the leaves, humming a few words as she did so. There was a glow of green, and the scent of smouldering firewood wafted through the air. Old cheetah magic, Roland knew. Dragons didn't make much use of it – they already had all the magic they could ever need, and spirit gems. It wasn't used much anymore, for most spells were unreliable. It was also frowned upon by traditional cheetahs.

As the yellow dragoness began wrapping a bandage around Harper's arm, for the weak skin covering the wound needed protection, Harper put a claw to a page with his other paw.

"Elemental signatures," he started. "We all have them, but dragons have stronger ones than any of the Great Twelve. You should know this. It's basic knowledge. Purple dragons are stronger, even, having more powerful signatures, ones that exude so much power that it can become desirable, tantalising to others, even animals..." He pointed to the other book, a picture of the monster in the skies sketched in realistic, gruesome detail. "Especially dreadwings."

Roland grimaced. He didn't want to believe Drevon had anything to do with this... but strange events _did_ occur around the purple dragons of old. "Are you saying the purple dragon has something to do with this?"

"Not _exactly._ While the purple dragon – whom I'm... pretty sure exists – has immense power, I'm sure the dreadwings are attracted to the magic being constantly produced and used within our walls as well, maybe from the factories, probably because of the many dragons living in Firemore. Firemore is a hub for dragons, even more so than Warfang, surprisingly. It'd explain why the dreadwing went after so many draconic targets."

Roland was about to voice a question, but Tris beat him to it. Fortunately, they thought alike. "Why would the dreadwings be attracted to our magic?"

"It says here..." He skimmed through the notes, frowning as the question was answered. "...that they consume it. They can't use it, but it's like a brief sugar rush. The more they devour, the more they crave. That still doesn't explain why they've suddenly reemerged, however, or why you weren't paralysed by their screams. I'm afraid I, nor any of my colleagues that weren't heading to war, couldn't find anything."

"Are there any guards left after that, by the way?" Roland asked, afraid he'd seen too many leave for battle. Harper shook his head.

"Many of us have been replaced. I, myself, am too old to join a war. So many eager faces, yet all so young. Naive." Harper put a paw above his forehead, almost in a salute. There was a subtle sorrow in his eyes. "But back to the subject at hand..."

"At least we know why the dreadwings are attacking," Tris spoke up. "Maybe we can avoid this kind of thing by limiting magic use... as much as _I_ would hate to do that."

"Yes, perhaps, but there's only been one attack so far. I don't think it would be fair to tell all dragons that they can't use their magic at all, or even as much, anymore. I'd expect your kind to revolt if ever a practice were put into place. It's happened before in the south, in Shimmervale. Only dragons – if you can call them that – live there now. They're seen as their own nation, not part of the Dragon Realms."

Roland shrugged. "I'd be fine with it. I don't have an element."

Harper opened his mouth to speak, but Tris yelled above him, her voice echoing through the walls of their home. "You don't _have_ an element!? How... H-how do you live?!"

"Manners, Tristana," Harper scolded. She mouthed an apology.

Roland was unfazed by the suddenness of her tone. He'd gotten practically the same reaction from every dragon he'd met. An element was often a thing they revolved part of – if not most of – their life around, but was often taken for granted. Some practised it like an art, honing their skills until their work came without a flaw. It'd be nigh impossible for a dragon to accept losing the thing that made them... well, a dragon.

Roland had dealt with that from the moment he was born, however. Sure, without an element, he was no more than a winged lizard, but he had other things to be proud of, like his nimbleness.

"It's fine. Every other dragon I've met has said the same thing," he told her. "Trust me, it's not _that_ weird."

"Hm, you may yet have one." Harper itched at his jaw. "Spirit gems have their own elemental signatures, and are attracted to a dragon's magic. It's why we cheetahs can't use them... Though, _you_ can use them, right?"

Just earlier, he'd absorbed possibly the most valuable gemstone he'd ever seen. A definite yes. "Yeah, I can."

"Then there has to be magic in there _somewhere,_ Roland." Harper smiled. "I'm sure you'll find it eventually."

Tris had finished tying the bandage around Harper's arm after fiddling with how to properly apply it. She took a seat once again on the lounge. "Have you tried any of the techniques the teachers use to get elements out of children?"

"I'm... not sure what you're talking about." A frown crossed his face.

"Okay, okay. How do I start, um... Close your eyes, Roland."

"What? Why?"

"Trust me on this." A grin grew on her face. "If it worked for a bunch of ten-year-olds, it'll work for you."

Harper sat back in his seat. His voice was a murmur. "This is going to be interesting..."

Roland did as he was commanded. Dark, nothingness. If he was supposed to be seeing something, feeling anything, it wasn't working.

"Now, focus. Clear your mind. Forget we're here."

Roland smirked. "Telling me to forget won't make me forget–"

"Shhh..." Tris hushed him. "Focus on the core of your being, the very centre."

He didn't exactly feel this working. He did as told, anyhow. More stillness, a void. The black was cold in a way.

"Inhale slowly, exhale deeply."

In... and out. He felt nothing more than relaxed, though that was possibly Tristana's intention.

"Now imagine there's something there. A flame. Just a spark. No more."

There was a flame, he found. It danced, slowly, elegantly, a serpent entwining. It swayed, twirled, dancing to the rhythm of crackling embers.

"Feel it warm your chest. Step closer to the fire."

Warm. There was a heat there, a warmth like a campfire breeze drifting through his scales. The crackling grew only louder as he paced further into its inviting arms.

"It wants to escape. But it isn't ready yet. Mask it from the world. Anger that flame."

He stepped ever closer, soaking in the fire's embrace. It wanted to grow, touch and burn the scales hovering over it, destroy the one shielding it from view. He ignored its desires, watching as it fumed, enraged smoke billowing in a sharp spiral from its core.

"Don't let it overpower you. Overpower it. Show it who its master is."

He felt he could touch it, let its burning claws set his leg ablaze without him coming to harm. He wasn't afraid of it. It would cower in front of him. He reached out, a claw outstretched. It was soft on his toe, gentle. It was vexed by him, though it didn't want him to come to harm. He wouldn't hurt himself.

"Now, reach in, grab that flame, and make it yours."

Inside himself, he reached further, swiping at the flames dancing. The crackle was loud...

It was unnerving how noisy it was, like a forest caught in a blaze.

He recoiled when the flames bit back, gnawing at his paw. He fell over, and that tiny flame had grown above even the tallest spire, a fiery demon staring straight into his being. Running was futile; the flames made a ring around his figure, growing closer, ever closer.

Whatever Tristana tried to say fell to deaf ears. His mind was ablaze, screaming in turmoil. A city grew out of the ground. He'd recognise the market square anywhere.

He couldn't open his eyes, no matter how hard he tried. The flames had trapped him, trapped him within a city withering, blackened by the undying flames spreading.

Torment reverberated through the buildings of Firemore, a screaming which made his mind burn more. He was caught staring the flames in the face, and they rushed towards him, grasping, clutching claws wide.

It halted in front of him, blackening, turning a shade of deep violet. Two whites points glowed from within, and he swore he could see a face, milky eyes studying his form.

They burned, hurt to look at like the sun.

The fire squeezed, a python choking the last of the life from their city. The screams stopped in an instant. The purple died with them, shifting into the flames.

He was sinking into the earth, the cobblestone crumbling beneath him. The towers fell. Nothing of Firemore was left standing, wasted away. The city of the phoenix, burnt away by its own creator.

And then it shrunk. It shrunk and shrunk until it was empty, and everything was black. Dead. Nothing more.

He could barely breathe.

"Roland!"

His eyes snapped open to Harper's tone. The sensation of burning fizzled away. His gasps were loud and uneven. The floor was cold beneath his back.

"By the Ancestors, are you okay?" Harper asked, leaning over him. His concern was very real, very serious. Roland had absolutely no clue how he'd ended up on the floor.

"I'm... f-fine," he said. The memory of whatever hell had been wrought upon their city in his mind was fresh. There was a dull ache in the back of his skull. He'd say from the fall off the lounge.

"You've hit your head pretty hard. You were... _shaking_ on the floor there for a moment." Harper himself shivered. "Are you certain you're fine?"

Roland lifted himself to his feet. "Completely. I... saw something. Like, I saw Firemore, and just... fire _everywhere_. And there was this dark cloud with weird, milky eyes. It hurt to look at."

Harper sighed and sat back on his recliner again, wiping a small bead of sweat from his brow. "I see... It sounds as if Tristana's words evoked something, perhaps a vision. It's not uncommon in dragons to receive such things, though they're never quite as... _scary_ as that sounds, or even painful. Maybe it's connected to that theory I have about you... Fortunately, they usually aren't true, or at least completely true."

"This is all my fault," Tris said, voice meek. Her confidence had faded. He was about to reassure her that it wasn't, but she was too quick to the punch. "I'm sorry..."

She ran off once again, through the kitchen. "Tristana!" Harper called. "You couldn't have known... Damn it. I apologise for what this visit has become, Roland." He exhaled, disappointed. "I'm afraid we can't talk about writing. You'll have to leave. I have a dragoness to deal with."

"Yeah... That's okay." He wasn't focused much on Harper, more so the fires running rampant within his mind. A chill ran up his spine. Those screams... They were scarily realistic. They reminded him of the attack, lives ended like string to a keen blade.

Roland didn't remember walking out of Harper's door and heading back to the sewers. Those white pupils, peering into the depths of his being. Who was it? _What_ was it?

Harper had said visions were never painful to dragons. He didn't like being special, the odd one out. What if he was a prophesied dragon, like the purple ones?

Too out there, he felt. No, he couldn't be...

Too much had happened now. His life was just being up-ended, everything he knew falling, spiralling out of control. He didn't understand why these things were happening.

Part of him didn't want to know.

Why couldn't it just go back to how it was before?


	8. The Vault

The Vault

There came no end to Roland's tossing in bed. His room was dark, but he could see only flame, the turmoil wrought by the white-eyed demon in his vision. He'd never had a vision before, and to have one so unique and painful as his first didn't do him any favours in attempting to purge it from his mind. Harper's words should've been reassuring – visions generally didn't come true.

 _Generally_ , he thought over and over again, his mind spiralling into a loop of fear. What if it was true? What if Firemore was just going to burn down on the spot?

What if he was involved, like Harper had suggested? His theories...

Maybe that white-eyed demon had been a dreadwing! Maybe it...

No, dreadwings had yellow eyes...

What if the fire had distorted his vision?

"For fuck's sake!" he hissed at himself, internally screaming. "It's not true, Roland. Firemore will be fine! You're not gonna lose your home. You aren't gonna lose everybody..."

The impact it left on him remained. An hour into the night he was still rolling in bed. His bed was a board hammered full of nails; it brought with it only discomfort.

"I don't even feel tired..." he whispered, swatting at his pocket watch and a matchbox in the dark. Striking a tiny flame after five failed attempts, he noticed the hour hand on his miniature clock had just struck three. "Maybe it's that spirit gem I absorbed earlier..."

For the next thirty minutes he sat on the floor with a candle burning beside him, vial of ink by his side. He jotted words down upon a page. Everything was shoddy. His descriptions were a mess, his mind as murky as the sewer's green waters. Eventually, he tore his page in half and blew the candle out with an irritated breath.

He threw his head into his paws and groaned. He longed for sleep, but his mind disagreed. Fires ran rampant inside his mind, screams of the agonised filling him with dread for what was to come.

No, nothing was to come. He was fretting over nothing.

There came a hollow, gentle knock at his door. He almost didn't want to answer, considering the time and how rude it seemed, but it had to be important if they needed him at such an hour. He knew it wasn't Drevon – he'd just waltz in and tap him on the shoulder like he had when he'd first spotted the beast flying in circles around the stars.

He heard a murmur on the other side of his dense door, but he couldn't comprehend the word, nor did he recognise the voice. Who would be knocking? There was a part of him that hesitated before twisting the door handle and inviting whoever was on the other end inside.

He gasped silently. He did know a dragon who stalked the sewers at midnight, and they always stopped at Drevon's door, according to the purple drake. And now they were standing in front of his.

It was Seth, wasn't it?

Seth was knocking at his door, wanting to scare him into submission, pin him to the wall in his room. His gentle knock was only supposed to be inviting, friendly, like he'd tried to be previously. Before he'd been slammed into the ground. He'd unleash his power once he broke inside, hurt the red dragon in ways he didn't want to imagine.

He could swear he heard Seth on the other side, menacingly calling his name. Roland backed away. His throat was tight. He felt starved for air.

His door creaked open. The light of the lamps crept in through the crack. He shuffled away, slowly, careful not to make a noise and alert Seth to his presence.

He heard a step on the other side, and then a slow, uneven breath. He couldn't see him yet. It only frightened him more. Roland didn't think he'd be scared of Seth. The earth dragon had that power, the power to stab his victims with a blade of fear. Usually, he could stand up for himself, but something about receiving a threatening knock in the middle of the night scared the shit out of him.

Roland jumped as his tail nicked the wall behind him. Nowhere to go now. Nowhere to run. He was trapped. "G-go away," he muttered to himself, too quiet for the earth dragon to hear, voice quavering. "Leave me alone. Please."

He shivered, falling to his hindquarters as the door groaned. The light was bright. He had to squint to see. But he didn't want to. His eyes shut like his clenched fists. Seth would pounce onto him. He was mere prey, like Drevon, to feed off of, to consume his fear. Seth would die for it, that last bit of fear he craved.

A monster, like the dreadwing.

"I don't want to die..."

"Roly?"

Roland looked up. He nearly slammed his head into the ground. It wasn't Seth. It was a young, green dragoness. Only Carolin. She'd just been too quiet on the other side. He breathed a sigh of relief.

"Y-you didn't answer me... Are you okay?"

He got up, brushing himself off. "Y-y-yeah, I'm fine. I was, uh... j-just snoozing on the floor."

"O-okay..." Her voice was shaking, for whatever reason. Roland cocked his head, pacing towards her. Even in this dim light, he saw her eyes glisten.

"Have you been... crying, Carolin?" It was a genuine question. He rubbed his eyes to make sure he wasn't seeing things. She was looking to the floor when he opened them again, but the tears in her yellow eyes were unmistakable. He felt his heart plunge. He'd been ignoring a sobbing, tearful Carolin outside his door. Those murmurs of his name he'd heard were her cries for him. "Did something happen? Are you hurt?"

He took a seat to get down to her level. Even if he was short for a fifteen-year-old, he towered a head over her. Drevon would call her his little ball of scales occasionally.

She didn't seem very content with answering his question now, but that was why she'd come. He _would_ get that answer out of her, if it was the last thing he did. Feeling culpable for ignoring her, he was fueled by determination.

"Carolin, please..." he said. He only received a quiet sniffle in return. She was using everything within her to keep her composure, but her resolve was failing with every passing moment. "Please talk to me."

Her eyes were red and puffy. She kicked the door shut behind her. A tear cascaded down her snout.

"Cary..."

Her tears burst forth and she buried her head into his chest. Roland was shocked by her suddenness. He'd never seen Carolin cry like this. She was shaking uncontrollably, emotions boiling over. He felt the instinct to wrap his paws around her, and took the opportunity as it came. She shivered in his grip. Her fear was nearly infectious. He was scared he'd made her sadness worse with his ignorance.

"It's okay, it's okay," he reassured her. "I'm here, Carolin. Don't cry. You're a big girl."

Her tears soaked the scales on his chest. He loosened his paws, fearing his embrace was too tight, but Carolin only pushed into him more, the blunt tips of her horns brushing against his chin.

"Please tell me what's wrong," he pleaded. "I'm sorry I ignored you. Talk to me."

"I..." She choked, coughing into his chest, and broke into another bout of crying. He couldn't help but feel sorry for her, knowing the pain of talking about issues.

"Let's sit on the bed. It's more comfortable than the floor." He walked her towards it, wrapping a wing around her back as he did so. He constantly peered at her, fretting over whatever her issue might've been. She didn't return his look, staring instead into the floor.

She calmed as she climbed atop his soft mattress. She leaned into him as he took his seat beside her.

"Tell me what's wrong, Cary."

"I've..." She sniffled, rubbing fiercely at her eyes. Her lip quivered. "Drevvy... He makes me worried. He d-didn't want to tell me what was happening..."

Roland had a good feeling he knew what her worry was over. "Are you talking about how hurt he looks all the time?"

"Y-yeah." She managed to suppress some tears. The force she leaned into Roland with was nearly enough to topple the thin dragon over, but as long as she was comfortable, nothing mattered to him in that moment. "I... I've heard rumours from the others about S-Seth doing something, but... i-it's not him, right? He's n-nice enough to me..."

"I'm afraid the rumours are true," he said. "I've witnessed it myself. Your brother... He's in a very bad position. I've tried to help him, but Seth only started going after me."

The disbelief, naivety, in her eyes was saddening. As he'd said earlier to Ashlyn, she was everyone's friend. That included Seth, though probably less so. She wasn't scared to speak to him, but she didn't stay in close contact with him. Having to realise that maybe their family wasn't so perfect after all must've been difficult.

"What did Drevon say to you?" he asked carefully. He was surprised he hadn't actually heard it from here. Carolin shuddered at the question. She gulped down the ball caught in her throat. "Did he yell?"

"Drevvy d-didn't yell at me. H-he pushed me, though. Told me I... I wasn't worth anything. H-he said he hated me... Th-there was something wrong; he didn't mean it! He... didn't m-mean it..."

She broke down into more sobs, and Roland's embrace tightened. Drevon would never say something like that to his beloved sister. The two played games all the time! Hung around whenever he wasn't there! They were practically best friends themselves...

"What happened to Drevon?" Roland soon questioned. He sure did hope the purple dragon hadn't sustained anything serious. He almost felt like rushing to the room just down the pipe to check up on him. Something had made him say those things. He didn't want his fears realised.

Carolin shook her head, as if not wanting to speak up about her brother's injuries. He looked her in her damp eyes, though, and she understood it was best she did. Even for a young dragoness, she was wise like that. "H-his eye was black, and there was blood on his side. He must've been clawed at..."

"Dragons don't usually claw at people." Roland frowned. The act of raking at someone with one's claws, though a viable strategy, was seen as dishonourable amongst dragons and all creatures with claws. If anything, he wouldn't expect Seth to get dirty like that in melee combat. If you could really call it melee combat.. _._ It was more fear-inducing assault than combat. Maybe Seth thought it would frighten him. "We're more likely to punch someone, or shoot an element... Well, unless you're me. I just flail at people."

She giggled gently through her tears. A smirk was tugging at her mouth, and he thought to continue. He flexed a non-existent muscle in a display of mock strength. Her laughter came harder this time, but before he knew it, her expression soured once again.

"He definitely didn't mean any of those things he said to you," Roland told her. "He's just distressed, Carolin. I want to find a way to deal with Seth. I'd... As much as I hate to say it, I think you might want to stay away from him for a bit until this stuff is resolved. Drevon's not a violent guy by any means, but he pushed you and I fear what he might do if he... gets to _that_ point."

She obviously wanted to object. Her brother was as important to her as herself. But she understood. She wiped the tears in her eyes away.

"Welp... As long he's okay right now," he said next. "Should I go and check on him, Cary?"

"I-I checked before I came here," she replied. "I looked through his keyhole. His injuries weren't bad. He's sleeping."

"Alright then. I'll have a chat to him in the morning."

The fear in her eyes was evident. "D-don't... _yell_ at him, please. H-he already hurts enough."

"I wasn't planning on it. Yelling at him for you would only make him feel worse." He sighed. Why, oh why did Seth feel the need to do this? Was it Ashlyn's reasoning, that he was jealous of everything everyone else had, friends to share time with? In spite of that, Roland couldn't understand how someone could be so cruel...

Carolin shrugged off his wing a minute later. She looked embarrassed she'd been crying now. "I'm sorry about... all this," she said. "I-I shouldn't have cried. I could've talked to him better... I was too demanding."

"Don't apologise. We all cry, and you were just worried about Drevon." He took to idly toying with his pocket watch's golden chain, wrapping it around one claw and then another. Carolin was focused quite hard on its shimmering design. "He did enough to warrant it."

"I've never seen you cry," she said, puzzled. "I only ever see you happy."

He chuckled. "You just haven't been around to see it. I do have a bit on my plate to deal with right now, like Seth and that person who's been stealing from the vault, as I'm sure you've probably heard, but I try to be as happy as possible. I like seeing other people smile."

"That's noble of you." She smiled. "Anyway, I have a question... Why were you on the floor when I came in? You said you were sleeping, but... I'm sorry, I don't believe you."

He cringed as his mind was finally brought back to the blaze raging through the streets of Firemore. "It's absolutely nothing, honestly. It's a stupid vision I had while visiting somebody. I saw everything burning down and heard people screaming."

"I'm happy visions don't really mean anything." She shivered, clearly recreating what she'd been told in her own mind. "That sounds bad, though. Like, I've never had anything so bad before, and neither has anyone else I know. They're usually happy. Drevvy told me they're sometimes connected to our elements, which is weird because you don't have one... M-maybe it's trying to call out to you or something!"

Her excited guessing brought a grin to his face. "Maybe. I couldn't care less about whatever my element is, though, or if I have one. It'd be strange having one now that I'm used to this. I'm more scared of that vision coming true. I... Well, I don't want to lose you all. You're my family."

"It won't," she said, voice serious, so certain in her answer. "And even if it did, I don't think we'd lose each other. We're a..." She seemed to be thinking carefully about her words. "We're a crafty bunch. We have a way to escape right here."

He was fretting over an insignificant non-issue, and he'd known that from they very start. His mind was just a torrent brimming with far-fetched ideas. He wanted to flee, but he was constantly drowning in his thoughts.

"If anything happens, Roly," she said, a warm smile crossing her face, "just know that everyone's here for you and each other. I'm here. It's like you said. Honour among thieves."

"I... don't think that's what that means, Cary." He laughed. "It means we don't steal from each other–"

"I-I know, I'm not dumb," she intervened. "I just think it should mean we all take care of each other when we need to as well. We might not be as close to some as we are to others – and some of us aren't even here most of the time – but in the end we're all family. And families stay together, help each other through thick and thin. We're all here for you... just like you were there for me. I think that's pretty honourable."

He wasn't lying when he'd said she was a big girl, but never did he expect something so heartfelt and wise to come from her. "Wow," was all he could say. He was rendered speechless.

"What, did I... s-say something wrong?" She'd obviously taken his word as condescending. He shook his head.

"N-no, it's nothing. That was... _beautiful_ , Carolin."

She shuffled in place, claws digging into his scarlet sheets. "Th-thanks..."

Usually he'd see her take a compliment and boast about how great she was, but something within her had changed. It was like she was maturing over-night.

"Anyway, it's a bit late to be out of bed," he told her. "I think I'm gonna head back to sleep."

"Alright!" She jumped from his bed; suddenly, her energy and enthusiasm were back. He was thankful to the Ancestors he'd found the right words to bring her joy. He could write an emotional story well enough, but it was different when faced head-on, put on the spot like that. Perhaps it was just natural instinct. "Goodnight, Roland!"

"Night, Carolin."

She stopped at the door, a warm smile spread across her lips. "And thanks."

"You're welcome," he said, wrapping his red sheets around his body. She nodded and walked off, more spring to her step, though her eyes were still downcast. He didn't blame her. If he had a brother and that brother had treated him the same way, he'd feel just as bad, as defeated.

He yawned and sprawled across his bedding, letting the plush mattress swallow him whole. He managed to lose those thoughts of uncanny, unbelievable circumstances. Firemore would never fall to fire, not again. Definitely not to whatever the misty, imposing figure inside the smoke was.

Everything would turn out okay. He was only assuming the worst because of how much bad had happened in recent memory.

His family would be there for him, every step of the way. Honour among thieves. Friendship among thieves.

* * *

Roland couldn't tell if Drevon was mad at himself, saddened by what was happening to him, or fearful of what was to come. It was probably all three. His eyes were cast downward and his wings drooped of their own accord.

Roland had chosen to walk down pipe D that day – a slightly hidden turn-off from pipe C – that was off-limits for everyone but he and Seth. The joke answer to the 'why' question everyone asked at first was always that it smelt the worst, but Roland found his nostrils were mostly free of the noxious scent that lingered in the air elsewhere. In truth, it was the location of their vault, an unused pipe in a state of disrepair.

Nobody could get in. Other thieves had to give their rewards to Roland or Seth (not that that had happened in a while, what with all of the recent failures). The earthen lock Seth had summoned upon the corrugated steel door to pipe D snapped claws and talons off, and left paws bleeding. Earth magic within would detect interference. It only needed a jolt of magic every now and then to be fully operational. If Seth hadn't turned into the shithead Roland knew him for now, he'd compliment Seth's skill in magical engineering.

Well, they'd _thought_ nobody could get in. Roland remembered Seth making a passing comment on the person stealing yesterday, to which he'd ignored, focused completely on his nightmarish vision. Surprisingly, Seth hadn't shoved his face into the stone and forced him to listen.

At least the thief hadn't been taking much from their vault. He remembered it being a spirit gem or two every now and then, nothing they couldn't replace easily. How they were getting through Seth's impenetrable defence was unbelievable, though.

Roland stopped in front of the door, then poked around inside the lock himself. There was a click and the steel moved forward, revealing the iron canal. It recognised his touch. He was surprised not as many people used these locks. Maybe it was the constant care that turned people away from them. That feeling of energy being sapped everyday couldn't have felt good, but he'd have no idea.

He closed the door behind him. It made him wonder why dragons used elements as often as they did. Mana was a limited resource, like a body of liquid being drained with every use. He'd have to ask Myrtle or Ashlyn or some other dragon what it was like to expend it. He couldn't believe he hadn't asked before.

"So, are you just gonna let me walk in here?"

Roland leaped in fright. Drevon was there, walking beside him down pipe D. He was a violet shadow amongst the darkness in this pipe. "Woah, Drevon. I completely forgot you were still here."

"I thought you'd stop me, but I guess not, bud." Drevon didn't make a noise, but Roland could tell he was inwardly chuckling at him. "And I thought _you_ were perceptive. Don't worry, I'll get going."

Drevon turned, tail dragging behind him, muzzle pointed to the rough stone. Roland felt guilty for not speaking to him yet. That was supposed to be his first objective this morning, other than delivering the valuable spirit gem contained within his satchel Ashlyn had obtained for him to the vault. He'd offered it to Myrtle the night before, but she'd flat-out rejected it and he backed down – very surprising for someone he thought enjoyed a few spirit gems every now and then. He took a few steps towards the purple drake.

"No, wait, Drevon," he called after him. Violet eyes looked at him with confusion, and maybe a hint of concern. "Why don't you come with me for once? I can trust you, can't I?"

"Y-you're... You want to take me to the vault?" It was the most shocked he'd ever seen Drevon in his life. He looked at Roland as if his sanity had been lost to the heavens. If anything, his genuine surprise was proof of his innocence regarding their vault looter. How he loathed Seth for assuming it was the purple dragon... Drevon couldn't do anything right in the brown dragon's eyes.

Roland grinned at him. "That's what I just said, right?"

"But what about..." Drevon trailed off, mouthing the next word, the name of his antagonist.

"Fuck Seth. Don't worry about him. He'll never find out. Plus, we have each other. He'd be stupid to attack us both."

Drevon hesitated despite Roland's reassurance, but he followed a moment later, each step one of caution, as if Seth was waiting around the next corner. Roland slowed down for him. He knew he had to get Drevon's mind off Seth, even though the topic would have to come up eventually. It was more worrying to see him in such a frightened state than it was when he was energetically rushing around. He didn't know what to start a conversation with, however.

The purple dragon saved him on that front, though, as they leaped across a split board once meant for walking. "S-so, um... What did you get up to yesterday? I noticed you weren't here when I got back..."

"Oh, I didn't tell you?" Roland was surprised he hadn't. He usually told Drevon where he was going to be. "I was out and about. Went out with Ashlyn, got her to steal from a young mole, we chased a dragonfly after he stole her ring... Pretty usual day. I did go to a... _friend's_ house after that, though."

"What's Ashlyn like, bud?" the purple dragon asked, intrigued. He was losing focus on his thoughts for the conversation at hand. "I haven't really gotten to talk to her much. The only time I've ever seen her was around pipe C, where she sleeps in that little crevice, and when we... explained sex to Carolin. That was awkward."

Roland had to get her a room still. She couldn't be sleeping outside in the mangy sewers all the time. Even if it was the least of his concerns, he knew she would care if her scales got ruined. "She's nice. Smart. A little awkward, but fun to be around. Kinda mysterious. She's cute if I'm being honest."

"Sounds like you _like_ her." Drevon chortled. The red dragon only rolled his eyes, expecting the response.

"I only met her a while ago. I don't have much interest in dragonesses..."

Drevon narrowed his eyes, tapping him lightly on the shoulder. "Come off it. Of course you do. You know I've seen that book you keep in your chest of drawers."

Roland nearly stopped to punch him, reminding him of the thick text he did happen to keep inside his chest of drawers. He'd nearly forgotten about it, too focused on the sewers' recent troubles. "We don't talk about that, Drevon."

He only laughed at Roland's expense. At the very least, Roland was glad to see him brimming with joy. Just watching that tail drag along the floor was depressing. "C'mon, if you don't like her, someone has to have caught your eye. You can't stare at that _girl_ for the rest of your life."

Yesterday, he had seen quite the looker. He'd nearly forgotten about Tristana after the vision. He still didn't believe she was at fault, and he felt bad for her thinking so. "Well, I did meet a dragoness yesterday who I... She was, um... _hot_." Drevon was about to open his maw to lay yet another comment down, but he put up a paw. "She said she wasn't interested in men, though, and that was a bit of a turn-off. She was still really nice despite that."

"Ha, you got friend-zoned," he said anyway. The red dragon only pouted, his scales slightly ruffled by the remark. "I guess you're doomed to stare at that – what's her name – Octavia for the rest of your life."

"Oh, Ancestors, I have to burn that book."

"But then you wouldn't have any wa–"

"Shut up!" If cheeks could boil, Roland's would've been. Drevon was practically howling with laughter at this point. His childlike personality could be incredibly irritating for Roland. If he'd wanted to, he could've flipped the tables on Drevon and joked about how wild he was for one particular person, but he didn't have it in him. It was nice to see him happy like this, and it made Roland grin. It'd been a while since he spent quality time with his best friend.

As soon as Drevon stopped laughing, Roland spoke up again. He didn't know if it was the best time to ask his question, though. "What did you get up to last night, Drevon?"

"Oh, nothing happened, honestly," he said, wiping a tear from his eye. It was a bit like he'd forgotten when he put it like that. His happiness waned, though, just as Roland had expected. He felt bad over letting his joy slip from a hundred to almost nothing in a second, but he gave Drevon a nonchalant look to signify what he was speaking of. Drevon understood immediately. "...Oh, that. Sh-she came to you, didn't she? Last night?"

Roland stopped as Drevon did. The vault lay just in front of them, down a hole concealed with a stone block. "Yes, she did. What happened, Drevon?"

"I..." He sighed. "I hardly remember, Roly. That's the truth. I remember she asked about the scratch and my eye, and I remember not wanting to speak to her about it. Then I... I don't really know. I felt strange. I didn't feel... myself. It was unpleasant. But I don't remember anything about it. I just went to bed afterwards."

Roland had no answers for his predicament. He'd heard of what anger could do to an emotionally charged dragon, but he'd never listened to a story quite like that one. "Not yourself? What does that mean?"

"I didn't feel like I was there at all," he said. "I didn't feel in control. I... don't even remember feeling angry at her specifically."

"Maybe you just took out... all _this_ on her," he suggested. He couldn't ever hate Drevon, but just the thought he would do such a thing made him uneasy. It wasn't like Drevon to get violent with anybody. "...Did Seth scratch you? It's weird of him to do something like that."

"I didn't even see him yesterday," Drevon admitted. This conversation was already plentiful with confusion, and his response only added more. "I was just out past Firemore, in the woods to the west. I just wanted to get away from everything for a while. Then I saw a dreadwing."

A dreadwing had taken to him, not Seth. That must've been why he felt like he did. The fear magic had seeped through his blood, a poison that drew out emotion.

"I-it was fucking scary, like you said. It raked at me and kicked me in the eye, but I managed to get away after shooting a fireball at it. I'm lucky to still be alive..."

"I was lucky to get away without being killed, too," Roland told him. "Do you still hurt? We could fetch a few spirit gems from down here" – he pointed to the stone block covering the entrance to their vault – "if you're in need."

Drevon looked down at the marks jaggedly coursing down his side. They were pink with new skin now, but they still looked painful. "It hurts a little, bud. Feels a bit like touching a frogweed, honestly; that really... _stingy_ feeling. I... mostly just feel bad about my sister."

Roland had already reached for the stone block. His muscles quivered and his hind legs shook. Seth could lift this thing no sweat, but Roland had always had as much trouble with this as he did with him now. Some days he'd find the strength within him, others he couldn't move it an inch. Today, it almost felt like it'd been stuck to the roof of the vault. "I-I see. Sh-she'd probably appreciate... an a-apology."

"She would. Do you need, uh... help, lanky?" Roland didn't have to turn his way to know he smirked over just calling him that word. The name-calling never got to him often, but a little more meat on his bones couldn't hurt him. He could probably try eating better for one. His stomach quietly groaned in response to his thoughts.

"I'd l-like that." Drevon was already assisting him with the block by the time he'd spoken. Funnily enough, he couldn't move it either. Roland heaved with all his effort, to the point where he felt like his legs would pop off still gripped to the block. "A-Ancestors!"

"Are you sure this is the right block?" Drevon asked. Roland studied the ground around him, and eventually nodded. This particular block had a small marking, a place Seth had been able to chip into with his claw. It was right in the centre, and after seeing it so many times, it'd become familiar, even with the chipped and cracked stone surrounding it.

"Definitely." He pulled until he lost grip and fell onto his backside. The only person with the strength to open this would be Seth, and... Well, Roland didn't exactly want to take the opportunity to ask him. "It's like somebody's holding the damn thing down."

Drevon exhaled, irritated. He sounded like he'd really been wanting to see it. "Well, not much we can do... but we could blow it up."

"We are _not_ blowing up the entrance to the vault–"

"Get down!"

"Wait, wha–"

He was knocked flying by an orangey-purple streak, as quick as lightning, into the wall opposite the vault's entrance. Drevon's paw was fixed to his head, keeping him to the ground, but Roland was able to twist his head the other way to spot a wavering, glowing sphere. His gasp went unheard.

The resounding, wet boom of the magma ball shook pipe D and almost scorched Roland's hindquarters. The stone disintegrated with a crack, and something heavy fell from the rickety ladder into the belly of their guild. His eardrums rang as he got up, like a metallic triangle was being whacked on repeat inside his ear-holes.

He stared at Drevon. He thought he'd feel mad, but he only sighed, already having expected something of a similar calibre from him. Instead of a shout, he went with a confused, disappointed, "What the fuck, Drevon?"

"You had to get in somehow." Drevon shrugged, feeling his actions were completely justified. "And... we're both not in a position to ask Seth or anyone else."

A smirk made its home on Roland's muzzle. "Well, I guess you'll just have to find a replacement later then." He made his way over to the ladder. Drevon groaned. Roland thought for a moment Drevon had made a mistake, alerting Seth to the fact someone else had been here, but he'd have to confront Seth about it later anyway. He'd known that from the start, and had told a little lie to Drevon. He felt bad now. "C'mon, let's go down."

Then he looked below him, into the vault. The darkness was usually foreboding, like something was going to jump out at him as he descended, but now there was no darkness to be seen. There was a flickering glow, an old candle atop a barrel jammed full of copper having been lit. He hesitated. Seth didn't usually light the candle. He had an electric lamp, operated with the flick of a switch.

"Is it usually lit?" Drevon asked.

"No. It's not."

The glow down there was definitely torchlight. He wondered if he'd left it on, but its tiny reservoir of wax would run dry within a few hours, and he hadn't climbed into the depths in a while now.

Somebody was down there. The thief was here right now. They'd been holding the stone block down via the handle on its underside, and had fallen as Drevon blew it to smithereens.

The light dissipated in a heartbeat, and as soon as it had, Roland leaped into the vault, Drevon gasping after him. He landed in a pile of coins, swiping at the candle and box of matches he knew were sitting beside him. Another set of paws scuttled along piles of copper. It didn't take him long to light the room once again.

In the centre of the room rich with gold and ore, a seemingly endless supply of copper, and most notably spirit gems surrounding the centre, was a dragoness. A dragoness he would never have expected to see. One he wished he hadn't seen. One he thought he trusted.

Out of everyone residing in the sewers, why did the vault thief have to be Myrtle?

Roland had no words, and neither did she. He saw only shame in those eyes, wet with having been caught in the act. Her mouth opened for a second, but she only cringed in pain. Her legs were burnt.

Once again, he didn't feel mad. He only shook his head.

Drevon came down after him, shocked to see the green dragoness standing there. He knew the rules, in spite of how much he liked to play up, and would respect this one. Myrtle eyed him with some surprise for a moment, but returned to looking at the rich floors with downcast eyes.

Roland breathed a shaky breath. He licked his maw. "I... I'm just..."

He could almost feel the tears brewing in Myrtle's eyes.

"Why, Myrtle?" His voice was quiet, slightly tremulous, but she heard him. Drevon seemed to be paying a great deal of attention to her paws, her blackened scales his doing.

The dragoness looked at him for a moment. She looked to find that too hard. "I-I... Roly, I'm s-so sorry. I..."

He waited a moment for her to pick up on where she trailed off, but she took too long and Roland spoke up again. "Just... _why_? I thought you were sleeping."

She shuffled her feet. The copper jingled beneath them. "I... I'm terrible. Th-that's all there is to it. I'm j-just terrible, Roland."

He took a few steps towards her. The spirit gems close to her were evidence enough of what she was attempting to steal. When he realised what this was about, he felt pity for her.

He felt scared, more so.

He looked her in the eyes, picking a gemstone off the ground. Gems they'd stolen from the factories a little while ago. She hadn't wanted to go there now, knowing it was far too risky when imports and exports were as high as they were. So, she came here instead.

She still couldn't find the willpower to look up. Her lip was quivering.

"This is an addiction, isn't it? To spirit gems?"

The second he'd said so, she couldn't hold it back any longer. Myrtle's wall came crashing down, tears flowing freely from her eyes. He'd never seen the tough dragoness reduced to tears. She knew what would happen if she overused spirit gems too much, and Roland was absolutely frightened by that idea.

"You know what happens when dragons use too many, right?" he asked. Myrtle nodded, though he decided he'd explain anyway. "It's not good. Your body won't be able to contain the energy, and you'll... you'll go out in an elemental explosion. You were treating it like a bit of fun before, and I wasn't worried if you wanted a few extra, but considering how many you were planning to take with you this time... You're not trying to blow yourself up, are you?"

Myrtle shook her head, and Roland breathed a thankful sigh for that. He continued to press the issue, though. "You know you can't come in here. Honestly, I was planning on letting you see it yourself soon, but... Well, you've already seen it all now. That's why Drevon's with me."

Finally, the purple dragon spoke up after his name was mentioned. "Did I... hurt you, Myrtle?"

"I-I deserve it, Drevvy." She swallowed the ball gathering in her throat, then flinched once again at the stinging in her paws. She turned to Roland. The regret that just leaked from her eyes was immeasurable. "Roland, I... You'll never forgive me. I'll... n-never be trusted ever again..."

She trailed off. Roland frowned. "Where are you going with this?"

"I should just leave. I'm... f-fucking worthless."

Roland scowled over those words. "You are _not_ worthless. We all have issues, Myrtle, but they don't make us worthless."

"I'll never get over any of this." She stared into the gemstones littering the floor. "I..."

"You've already realised it's a problem. That's the first step... You want to get over all this, right?"

"Y-yeah, but I..."

"Then you can," he said. "Listen, I don't hate you for breaking into the vault and stealing spirit gems, if that's what you think. In fact, if there's something going on and you need one or two to help you get through your day, then I'm perfectly fine with it. But you're going too far with this. I'm not saying that to protect the hoard; honestly, all this is not that important to me. I'm just worried about you, Myrtle, now that I know what you're doing."

"Y-you really shouldn't be worryin' about me," she replied. "I'm not worth the trouble."

Drevon shook his head. "He's right to worry. And I'm worried too, about this, and... what I could've done to you with that fireball."

"As the... _sort of_ leader of you all – and as a good friend – it's my job to worry about you all and what you're doing." Roland's voice was defiant. He wouldn't let Myrtle shrug away his attempts to help her this time. "And as your friend, I want to help you. I'm sure Drevon would too, wouldn't you, bud?"

"If you need someone to talk to about anything," Drevon began, "I'll listen, Myrtle. You've talked to me about everything that's happened, and I'll talk to you about whatever's happening with you. It's what we do. We're friends."

Roland was glad Drevon was reaching out to others. Perhaps all of them could put a stop to Seth's violence together.

"I..." Myrtle wiped a paw over her eyes. Roland took one more step closer, gently laying the claws on the tip of his wing on her shoulder.

"Nobody wants you to leave. I still trust you," he said. "Just talk to us. Tell us what's happening and what you need, and we'll help you get it. As long as it's, uh... reasonable."

A meek smile grew on her muzzle. "I... deserve a worse family, honestly. You all should be mad at me..."

"We're selfish, terrible people. Thieves," Drevon responded, a grin on his face. "We're about as bad a family you could ever get."

Roland smiled with him. "Plus, you didn't take anything of _real_ value. I'm not mad. Now that I think about it, Seth kind of blew it up to make it seem like it was super terrible. The more I think about him, the worse I realise he is."

"I guess I'll... put these back now." She scooped the spirit gems scattered around her into one paw, a smile stretched across her muzzle. Roland didn't think he'd seen her so happy before. He couldn't help but grin. Perhaps revealing her secret had elevated some sort of burden.

"How did you even get in, though?" Roland asked. Myrtle tossed most of the gems into the pile from whence they came before turning back to him, holding onto a few. Roland narrowed his eyes sternly. She chuckled quietly before throwing the rest away.

"That elemental lock ain't hard to figure out. I was able to imbue it with my own magic and make it like me."

Roland nodded. Maybe Seth's lock hadn't been a good one after all. He was happy to have solved this issue anyway, the mystery of the vault thief. One problem down... It felt like hundreds more were left unsolved, but he didn't let that get to him. He could solve all else later. For now, he could be cheerful over this.

The ladder behind Roland rocked then, a weight sliding down its feeble frame. He froze in place after he turned his head. Drevon and Myrtle stared, wide-eyed, at the figure shooting down into the vault. He should've expected it to happen. He'd hoped for a happy ending, but he just knew _something_ would not go in his favour. It was almost a part of him now to assume the worst at every possible turn.

Sliding down that ladder was none other than Seth Simmers. Roland could barely describe the expression he wore. A horrid mix of betrayal, shock, and most prominently, anger.

It took a few moments for Seth to weigh his options. Roland knew the one he would take. He'd burst like a bubble of magma.

"I don't even know where to begin," Seth said. Somehow, he managed to contain his rage, but he looked as if he was struggling. Fire definitely would've suited this earth dragon more. "This is ridiculous. You're _all_ to blame for this theft."

"No, Seth, that's–" Myrtle tried to respond, but Seth lifted his paw and she stopped.

"Shut up. I don't want to hear any of you speak. You know what you did, and I'm not buying any excuses. I want you all to leave. I don't trust any of you."

The look of genuine hurt on Seth's face astonished Roland, but he could only decline Seth's wishes. Maybe years ago he would've listened, being the pushover he was – and, perhaps, if he had actually stolen anything – but he would never listen to that now. He'd grown up, and he'd never back down from righting the unjust. Seth had frightened him before last night, but he knew it was time to fix this. "Nobody's going anywhere, Seth."

"You're the weakest of us all, yet you're the only one who has the guts to speak up." Seth began taking slow steps forward. The way his claws scraped against the stone, his calm demeanour... Somehow, this was more frightening than being shouted at and tortured against the ground. Roland stood his ground, however, despite his obviously shaking legs. "You're brave, Roland."

"We're... not all stealing, Seth," the red dragon attempted to reason. "I just felt like it was time to–"

"No. _Excuses_." Seth _wanted_ to take on the three of them. He wasn't willing to reason. "I want you out of this pipeline, and that's final."

"I-it's not _your_ pipeline." Roland could hardly believe what he was trying to do. "It never was and it never will be."

"You don't have the right to decide, not after catching you red-handed stabbing me in the back." Seth's facade cracked with each passing moment. Soon the wall would crumble and the gathering war within would be unleashed, and they would be the victims. "If not for me, you'd be a cold corpse on the streets. You're my property, Roland. I own you, and property doesn't speak back."

Roland hated that. He despised it. Every word was poison to his ear holes. Nobody _owned_ him, especially not that prick of a dragon. Even if Seth was only trying to enrage him, this was the last straw. Fuck Seth's genuine hurt over this situation. If he was going to be like this...

"You... can't just own people, Seth." Drevon, surprisingly, spoke up. He was shivering, however, and his words came out with no confidence. "Th-that's not how it works. At least, not anymore..."

"Shut it, Drevon," Seth snarled. He paced ever further, like a lone death hound stalking prey. Soon he was in front of Roland, and Roland was sitting before the jaws of the beast. "What do you have to say for yourself, Roland? Why shouldn't I just make you leave?"

"Because we're family," he simply replied. "You don't just leave family behind... With that in mind, I... feel like you've lost yours."

"You are really brave, Roland. But you're an idiot."

Roland merely glared. He couldn't help feeling terrified, though, imagining all the things Seth would do to him. Seth was more than a head and neck taller than him, massive for a dragon his age. His muscle made Roland look like a twig. Those brown scales were almost a menacing black in the firelight.

"Stop it, Seth." Myrtle decided to step in. "You don't wanna–"

"Shut up, Myr–"

"No, you ain't gonna keep on interrupting us," she intervened. Her tail spade swung aggressively behind her. "You can stop this right _now_. You don't wanna do this, and I _know_ you don't."

Seth only exhaled, closing his eyes. It disgusted Roland, more than anything, that anybody could do things like this. He was appalled.

Seth laughed shortly, and when Roland noticed his paw illuminated with green descending towards the floor, he managed to stumble out of the way. Three pillars of earth jolted through the stone floors of the vault; the room shook as though struck by an earthquake. Myrtle hadn't noticed, Drevon had been too scared to move, and they both took the impact from Seth's earthen magic. They gasped around Roland. The red dragon bared his fangs.

"You're going to leave or I'm going to make you," Seth said.

Roland didn't listen at all.

He'd had quite enough of this.

With the others winded around him, he leaped forwards past Seth's second spout of magic, straight onto him. He threw a punch with as much might as he could, but he barely grazed Seth's face. The cap on Seth's fury, however, popped off like it'd been made of cotton.

"You fucked up."

Seth threw two back, the first he dodged, but the second was quicker than Roland could've expected. He didn't feel himself hitting the floor at all. His head burned, his vision blurred with his tears. A warmth oozed from his nostrils. The world was a turbine.

"You deserve this." Seth's tone was quiet, or it could've just been Roland's throbbing mind blocking out the noise.

Myrtle rushed over, even with the difficulty to breathe, unafraid of the onslaught Seth would bring. Roland felt her lean over him, green eyes staring into his golden. "Seth... Look what you've done!"

He could feel Seth staring into him, eyes piercing his scales, and then Myrtle was kicked, hard, off his body. "Stay away from him if you know what's good for you, Myrtle."

She wouldn't take that for an answer. With anger the likes of which Roland had never seen from Myrtle, she charged at Seth and knocked him into the vault's wealth. Roland managed to get to his feet once again, despite his buckling legs.

He wiped the tears from his eyes. It hurt to look at anything, but he was searching for Drevon. In the corner, he found. The purple dragon was shivering, and Roland wasn't sure if his struggles to breathe were because of being winded.

Something was... _happening_ to him. Roland couldn't tell what, but Drevon had never looked such a deep violet.

Drevon's voice was clear, though, despite its shakiness. He was terrified. "S-stop it. Please..."

Nobody heard him but Roland, however. Seth was stronger than the green dragoness, but Myrtle was able to keep far away from any kicks and bursts of magic he released, and Myrtle only returned with her own. She already looked exhausted, though, sweat coursing through her scales.

Roland wanted to help, but he was in no shape to fight. He could barely move as it was. All he had was the option to comfort Drevon.

Drevon was watching the two, his eyes glimmering with fearful tears. He shook uncontrollably. Roland was scared for him. "Stop," he said more forcefully, but again it was to no avail.

Roland set himself down in front of him, but Drevon only buried his head in his paws. Roland thought he could feel magic for the first time, but it wasn't coming from him. It was so thick in the air, like an odour. It felt heavy. Powerful. It didn't feel by any means good, either. It pulled his stomach into a knot.

Once the blurriness had begun to vanish, Roland's fear rose. The sounds of fighting in the back of the vault faded to nothing as he focused on Drevon's blackening body. Dark tendrils curled around his scales. A deep purple glowed around his body.

It was what Drevon had been fearful of. He no longer had the mind to suppress his emotions.

"I said _stop_!"

Drevon's voice boomed, deafening. It alone shook the sewers, and Roland fell off his feet once again. There was a sound, like a pin dropping, and then Drevon burst into a black, violent explosion.

Roland hardly felt the wall against his spine. Nothing hurt anymore. It was all numb. He could barely feel himself there. Myrtle and Seth stopped fighting, both turning to stare at the monster Seth had unleashed.

Drevon was consumed with dark aether. His body was purged of colour, his mind of kindness. This was the power of pure, unbridled emotion. His milky eyes saw nothing but hate for the one in front of him.

Drevon held his own vault. He'd locked it far away within himself, fearing its contents, but now the pent up power had been released.

Roland could barely watch, not because of his pain but because, in some way, he'd expected this. It happened too quickly for him to close his eyes, though. Drevon, or what was left of him, sped across the room in flight, faster than any dragon he'd ever seen. He forced a struggling Seth into the air, and Myrtle crawled away, backing into the wall Roland leaned against, her eyes a mix of shock and fear.

This was the first time Roland had ever seen Seth frightened. Drevon merely hovered there, his paw clamped around Seth's neck.

"D-Drevon... P-ple–"

Drevon squeezed harder, drawing blood that trailed down his paws, and Seth gasped. He could've broken him right there.

Roland panted hard. Seth wasn't a good dragon, sure. But he didn't deserve this. Nobody deserved this.

He got to his feet and paced towards the black dragon. He coughed before he could speak.

"D-Drevon," Roland spoke, in between splutters. Drevon turned, milky eyes staring into his. "Y-you need to... s-stop this. Seth doesn't d-deserve this. He's..."

Roland could hardly speak. He noticed Drevon was staring at his body and not his eyes anymore. He was bloodied and bruised, and Drevon had no clue how to react to that. Roland knew he wouldn't die, but he needed to stop this before someone did.

"Th-this isn't the real you," he continued. "You're kind and... compassionate. A little silly sometimes, but... we all have our faults. And... heh. I bet Seth wouldn't do anything stupid again after this. P-please just d-drop him. As much as I h-hate to say it, he needs a s-second chance."

He'd been thinking of what Myrtle said. Of how he was concerned. He'd only been doing it to protect himself and the people he liked. Somehow, standing there, bloodied, almost unconscious, allowed him to clear his mind and open it up to that conclusion.

That still didn't make any of it right. It was up to Seth to do so.

At first, he wasn't sure if his words had pierced the darkness, but breathed a sigh of relief when the white of Drevon's eyes dissipated. Again, Roland saw purple. He looked to be struggling to contain his power.

"He can do better. We all can." Roland sighed. "I know you don't want to do this. So please just drop him. He's dying as is. He's been... p-punished enough."

Drevon faltered and turned back to Seth. Seth had stopped trying to wrestle from the purple dragon's grip long ago, pleading eyes staring at Drevon. Soon enough, much to the relief of Roland, Seth fell from the air and landed in a pile of copper.

And Drevon soon followed, slowly descending, until his claws clicked against the stone. The tendrils that wrapped his body in darkness vanished, and the bright purple of his scales shone once more.

Roland did his best to walk over, but he only ended up falling onto his stomach. His red scales were painted with a deeper shade of crimson. He didn't know where he was bleeding from, but he felt himself getting weaker by the second. He didn't think he would die, but he sure would need a rest and some spirit gems.

"What have I done?" Drevon murmured to himself. He ran over to Roland after clutching a spirit gem in his paw, his eyes wet with fear. "Wh-what have I _done_?! Roland, are you... are you okay?!"

Roland nodded weakly. "Y-yeah, just... tired."

"T-take this," Drevon said, handing it to him. Roland struggled to crush the larger gemstone against his paw. As he did, he felt the wounds in his body seal, but he didn't feel in the least bit rejuvenated. "Is that better?"

"W-what was that, Drevon?" Myrtle asked, voice thick with shock.

"I... I-it's dark aether, Myrtle," he replied. "When I get... really mad..."

"Let's not think about it." Roland didn't want to let the conversation go any further. It would only make Drevon feel worse. Myrtle leaned over him with more spirit gems clutched in her paw. "I-is Seth still here? I... I want him to apologise. For everything he's done."

"He ran off," Myrtle said, handing more gemstones to Roland. He felt he had slightly more energy than before, but there was only so much these lesser stones could do without him having a proper rest.

"I c-can't believe I..." Drevon got up. His eyes fell, tears wetting the floor. "I-I almost killed you and everyone else. I'm... _dangerous_. I shouldn't be around you if this is..."

"N-no, Drevon, we just talked to Myrtle about not leaving. I'm not letting you, either, because you're not the one at fault. Seth did this."

"I..." Drevon turned, pacing away. "I just need some time to think. I-I'll be back."

Roland was tempted to reach out and pull him back, but he definitely couldn't in this state. Some time to himself would probably do him good anyway. Myrtle sat next to the red dragon, handing him yet another spirit gem. He gladly took it.

"We need to find Seth," she said. "He needs to right his wrongs. He can't just keep goin' around like this if this is what's gonna happen. Can't believe I trusted him to say sorry."

"I know." Roland exhaled. "Let's head back. I... think I need to rest first. And maybe have a wash."


	9. Big Fluffy Ball of Scares

Big Fluffy Ball of Scares

Roland let out perhaps the biggest sigh he ever had. Finally, not one of boredom, misery, or frustration. A sigh of complete and utter relaxation. There was a numbness in his body, and he did still ache ever so slightly from Seth's fist and Drevon's magical blast, but he found it faded with the thoughts running through his mind.

Myrtle had brought him here an hour ago, to a spring just outside the sewers he'd never known existed, so he could wash away the blood and his injuries. He'd needed some help getting there – Myrtle had almost carried him, despite still being injured and unable to fly, but she'd reassured him that the walk would be worth it. And she was _right_.

His back was to the grassy wall of a spring. Water gently lapped at the bottom of his neck, sparkling in the sun that made an effort to squeeze through the thin canopy above. Wind rustled the leaves and the branches, and the stream swam down the cliffside, the faint sound of rippling reaching his ears far below. The grass was fresh with rain; he could smell it, nearly taste it on the tip of his tongue. He was immersed, and he didn't want to leave.

Myrtle was about as relaxed as him, a few metres away. She probably needed it, too, after the incident in the blue dragon's house. She had her eyes closed, her body loose. She reached behind her without even looking, flicking one of the spirit gems she kept behind her into the water with her paw. He had worried when she'd brought a few, but she reassured him that because the spirit gems were absorbed directly into the water, they wouldn't cause the unfortunate side-effects of light-headedness or making a dragon see the colours they were known for. It did temporarily give the water the ability to heal wounds, though, even if it was sluggish. He watched as the gemstone fizzled, bubbling at the surface, until it disintegrated with all his pent-up frustration.

He'd been frustrated when he left pipe D. Everyone inside the sewers had heard Drevon's blast from afar. They were waiting outside pipe D for whoever was inside. Roland had been covered in blood, so it was easy for him to tell they wouldn't let him go easily. Thankfully, Myrtle had helped him push through the dragons, after he promised to explain it to them all later. He didn't feel like he could tell them about the darkness within Drevon, however.

That was just a witch hunt waiting to happen.

For now, though, Roland didn't worry about any of that. He could sit here, relax, do nothing for a while. Worry no more. It felt good to loosen up after dealing with so much for the past two weeks.

A few minutes later, the crunch of dirt beneath paws disturbed Roland and Myrtle from their stupor. They both turned in tandem to the sound, and found a startled Ashlyn looking back at them, half of her behind a tree. Roland raised a brow.

"I-I'm s-sorry for distracting you," she said, quick enough to be nearly incomprehensible, "I was just c-coming around for a soak myself, but now you two are in here and–"

Roland chuckled, and Ashlyn's quick tone came to a halt. "There's nothing wrong with that, Ashlyn. If you want to swim around a bit, you're free to join us."

"Yeah, c'mon, blue girl," Myrtle said, a grin on her face. "It's not like the water belongs to us."

"But I thought you might like to be left alone because..."

"We ain't _datin'_ , if that's what ya think." Myrtle laughed. "C'mon, jump in!"

"W-well, alright..." Ashlyn shifted from her cover behind the tree and stepped into the water. She looked a little tight at first, sitting down in the water, but as soon as the gem-infused water took her by surprise, it was like a tight knot had been untied. Her body slackened on instinct. "Woah... How many spirit gems have you put in here? I... feel like jelly."

"Only a few," Myrtle responded. "But the spring isn't that big. You'll get used to it, blue girl."

Roland looked over at Ashlyn, who wriggled uncomfortably for a second. She had her eyes closed; he thought she seemed tired for a second, with the dark ring beneath her eye, but looking closer brought him to the conclusion that it was an injury. Nothing serious, but her face did show she was in slight discomfort.

"What happened to your eye, Ashlyn?" he asked. She froze at the question. Had something happened to her? "I mean, if you don't mind me asking. It just... kind of looks like someone punched you in the face."

"I-i-it's nothing," she hurriedly explained. "I accidentally ran into a wall. Kind of embarrassing, I know."

That hardly seemed true, he thought. Myrtle was the one to speak up about it, though. "I'm not buyin' it, blue girl. Roland's right. You _do_ look like somebody hit you, and I don't think you're dumb enough to run into a wall."

"Look, I..." Ashlyn sighed. "I don't want to talk about it."

"Come on," Roland said, leaning forward. "I'll find out one way or another. I just need to ask everyone back at the sewers. But it would help if you did tell me."

"Roland, I don't want to–"

"Ashlyn, please, it really–"

"I don't want to talk about it, alright?!" she yelled, smacking the water with her paws. "Can't you respect what I've said!? I don't want to and that's final!"

He shrank back into the depths, until only his head bobbed above the water. "I... S-sorry, I..."

"Yeah, I got punched in the face! Who cares!? It'll blow over!"

"Woah, calm down, blue girl." Myrtle raised her paws. "He only wants to help–"

"Stop calling me _blue girl_!" Ashlyn screamed, lifting her tail into the air, as if to point her tail blade at them. It still hadn't grown back after being crushed into fine dust. "It's Ashlyn or Ash! I hate that name!"

Even Myrtle was reduced to silence by her commanding tone. "O-okay, Ashlyn..."

Roland dared to take a peak at her. She was huffing, fangs bared, looking like she was about to explode. The only time he'd seen her this mad was when he'd thrown her ring into the sewers... He made a reminder never to get her mad again.

Thankfully, like last time, her anger was short-lived. She eventually realised she'd silenced (and thoroughly frightened) the two dragons before her, and averted her gaze to the water sloshing against her bluish underbelly. "I..."

"It's my fault," Roland blurted out; though his voice was quiet, the two dragonesses still paid attention. "I shouldn't have been so demanding. I'm sorry. I'll leave if you don't want me here..."

"N-no, Roland, I didn't mean to yell." Ashlyn put a paw to her forehead. She sounded annoyed at herself now. A little peeved Roland was so intent on getting an answer out of her, too. "I'm just... not in the mood."

"We all get angry, bl- Ash," Myrtle said. Ashlyn, again, wriggled in discomfort. "It's fine if you don't wanna talk about, but you can only expect Roland to figure it out later. He worries over everyone in the sewers. He won't stop asking."

"It's true. I just want everyone to get along." He sighed. What a perfect world that would be. Happiness, stealing with and for each other. Unfortunately, most didn't have such motives, to repel spite and live together in peace. They only really cared for themselves. It explained why not many decided to hang around the sewers, and would come back with some of their spoils whenever they needed a place to stay. " I... w-won't ask anyone about it if you don't want me to."

Ashlyn relaxed her head against the wall of the grassy spring. Her tone came gently once again, but he could tell her nonchalance was only hiding a bit of frustration. "I'd rather you don't waste your time... But anyway, why are you both out here, if you, um... don't mind me asking."

Myrtle gazed at Roland, a look that suggested she was asking for his permission to tell her. She'd been with him earlier when he'd struggled through the people waiting out front and knew he didn't exactly want to tell others for fear of Drevon being attacked for the darkness. If it had happened to Spyro, it would surely happen to him. He nodded, however. Ashlyn wasn't the type to hunt somebody for their colour. They'd spoken together not too long ago about how blaming the purple dragon was shallow.

Myrtle explained the story quickly, speaking of Seth's hateful, misguided actions and the deep, dark power locked away within Drevon, and then of how Roland was injured and covered in his own blood. Ashlyn shuddered.

"Gee..." she muttered. She took a few moments to speak again, clearly considering what she'd gotten herself into by joining their band of thieves. She really hadn't joined them at the best of times, had she? "I haven't really spoken to Drevon yet – only Carolin, you two, and the person that brought me here – but he seems nice enough. And Seth really needs to stop that. He'd find himself... w-well, dead, if he keeps on going. If anything, I sure hope it scared him off."

"Same," the green dragoness replied. "He needs to apologise. We just weren't ready to confront him yet. Roland really needed this."

Ashlyn nodded, leaning back into the spring. A short sigh escaped her lips as she closed her eyes. Myrtle followed suit and, soon enough, so did Roland. He relished in the breeze drifting through his scales, in the cool water swallowing his body whole, with only the gentle shivering of trees under the wind to listen to.

Roland didn't rise from the water, his maw nearly dipping into its depths. He didn't like making mistakes, especially when they angered people. His attempts to get answers out of others had worked before...

He didn't know if there was such a thing, but maybe he was trying to help _too_ much.

No, he needed an answer out of her so he could solve this issue. He couldn't have the same thing happening to Ashlyn as Drevon. That had already been too much to deal with.

But it could wait. For now, he could relax.

When he heard the trees ruffle a few minutes later, he didn't know what to make of it. It had been calm before. Nobody had moved to make it so. Myrtle looked nearly asleep, and Ashlyn was focused on scrutinising the glimmering ring around her toe. He took it as nothing but the wind, and went back to enjoying the water.

But then it happened again. It sounded like there was a body moving through the trees and shrubs. He looked up from where he was, sitting up for the first time in a while. The rippling of water disturbed Myrtle from her almost-slumber.

"What are you lookin' at, Roly?" she asked.

Roland sniffed the air. A dragon's sense of smell wasn't like a hound's, but he knew there was something there. A dastardly scent, one of rot. It was faint, but definitely perceivable.

He wasn't sure what to make of it. He remembered the smell, but he couldn't for the life of him remember where he'd smelt it.

"Do you smell that?" He got the attention of Ashlyn with those words; she scrunched up her nose.

"It doesn't smell good..." She placed a paw over her snout. "It's like rotting meat."

Myrtle frowned. "And it's gettin' stronger..."

The bushes moved again, faster, twigs snapping. The trio's eyes followed the movement as they all stood. Someone was there, watching them bathe. That... was indecent.

"Show yourself," Myrtle yelled into the bushes, "before I come in there and find you myself! I could smell ya from a mile away!"

Roland squinted to get a better look. Myrtle might've made a mistake, he realised. There was a hulking shadow, but not one of any dragon he'd ever seen. Unless that dragon was a hunch-back, he had no idea what it was.

He saw a pair of large wings just above a gap in the trees, and abnormally large claws scuttled about below. Roland frowned, then his eyes widened as he saw a glimpse of its yellow eyes.

That was no dragon. It wasn't a dragon watching them bathe.

He tried to yell to his two friends. "That's not a dragon, that's a–"

The dreadwing screeched; its scream tore through even the bushes, leaves twirling, twigs flying. His eardrums almost gave way as he scrambled out of the water. They rung like an explosion had gone off beside him.

"Run!" he yelled at the dragonesses, sprinting forward. He realised a second later they were stunned by the beast, their minds conquered by fear. He wanted to rush to their aid, but the dreadwing was already stomping towards him, needle-like fangs bared. Everything was telling him to make a break for it before he died.

He couldn't _leave_ them there!

"Come on, snap out of it!" he shouted until his chest hurt. The dreadwing's piercing yellow gaze wasn't focused on the girls, and instead him. It was coming towards him, claws tearing up the ground as it rushed forward. He stood his ground, but the longer he stayed, the less time he would have to get away.

Water flew in waves as its body hit the spring. Myrtle and Ashlyn were smacked with a face full of water. The pair of them spluttered, but they seemed to snap out of their fear. Roland yelled again.

"Cover your ears! It's going to – shit!"

They both managed to listen, but the dreadwing didn't seem to care for screaming anymore. It leaped into the air, huge wings casting a shadow that blocked out the sunlight over him. Roland barely had time to scramble away from its snapping jaw.

He tripped and sprinted into the forest. Myrtle yelled after him, in hot pursuit of the beast. Roland screamed for her to run for her life, but didn't know if she heard him.

Scales caught on leaves, horns smacking into branches that snapped painfully against his face. He fell into the dirt, tumbling, his joints aching. It felt like he hadn't even gotten a chance to rest since Drevon had turned into what he feared.

He tried to move, but fell as he did. His foot was caught, strung to a tight wet vine. He swung his tail blade at it, but, blunt from neglect and by Firemore law, it proved ineffective. The dreadwing was struggling through the thick forest, stumbling around the logs, snapping its jaws through low-hanging vines. He couldn't see Myrtle anymore, a green dragoness lost to the green of the forest.

He crawled closer to the vine, trying to twist his foot free, but it held tight. In fact, it tightened more as he tried to rip it to shreds, until he felt as if he was being pulled closer. He looked up at the source with desperate eyes.

The plant was holding him tight, none other than a frogweed. As soon as he realised, his leg stung. Acidic saliva soaked his scales. The more he pulled, the further he was reeled in, into the opening maw of the frogweed that marked the beginning of his demise.

The dreadwing was gaining on him, too. His position was... humiliating, he felt, in a way. Caught by the equivalent of a sentient plant, about to be swallowed whole, only to be stolen away by the dreadwing and turned to mere gore.

His gasps gave way to panic. It was hopeless, but he kept pulling. Harder, until he felt his leg might break. The dreadwing screamed a cry of rage. He raked at the ground with his claws to stop himself, but he only managed to pull at grass and rip out ferns.

He released one last cry, rage flowing through his veins, but his efforts were in vain. The maw of the frogweed wrapped around his foot, and he knew he was going to die.

At that very moment, the frogweed groaned, and there was a swift tearing sound, like ripping through fabric, followed by the agonising screech of the dreadwing. The tongue slackened and his leg was free. When Roland realised, he began crawling as fast as he could, leg dragging behind him, in too much pain to lift. He didn't look behind him.

It was already too late, and he knew. Myrtle hadn't gotten to him in time... But she would've only died, too.

It was better him than everybody else. Tears formed in his eyes, caressing his cheeks. He wouldn't give up yet, though. He wouldn't let it just _take_ him. He'd put up a fight, make it work for its reward.

To his shock, the dreadwing merely lifted him into the air by his burning leg. He'd expected it to bite down on him, to feel meat rip off the bone like tender piggle to his maw. As he swung, it growled, and he could feel the creature's breath warm on his leg. Its keen fangs were wrapped around it, but it didn't bite down. No, it was taking him to his grave.

Roland tried to scrape at its legs, but his paws wouldn't reach. He attempted to whip at it with his tail, but he couldn't lift it high enough. The only thing he could do was shake.

Suddenly, he felt the ground beneath his backside. He was forced to back into a tree, the bark almost sharp against his scales, and not a moment later was the dreadwing's monstrous face staring directly into his.

It opened its mouth. No scream came. Instead, a roar, one which he didn't think he'd ever forget. He could see thousands of tiny fangs, like pincers, lining its jaw, all the way down its oesophagus, miniature shredders. He didn't care for the saliva it drooled onto his face; he was far too terrified.

It went on for what felt like minutes. Its voice echoed through the forest. Roland could only stare back, never blinking. His eyes watered as they started to sting.

When the dreadwing finally stopped, satisfied with his terror, it backed away slightly, a glare crossing its features. It growled deeply.

"N-n-nice, d-dreadwing," he stuttered hysterically, unsure how or why he was alive. He firmly clutched the grass for support and almost turned around to hug the tree for comfort.

The monster licked its maw, huffing through its enormous nostrils. It raked its tiny horns against the trees just above him, then its grotesque claws. They looked overgrown, as if they'd been untouched for a thousand years. Dragons kept their nails short, though, so maybe they were pretty normal to the dreadwing...

Why was he thinking about the dreadwing's nails? Wasn't the damned thing supposed to be _eating_ him?

"I-I, uh..." he began. The creature lowered its head to his. Just its gaze was frightening. "I'm... r-really confused."

Then he saw it roll its eyes, as if to tell him he was annoying. Roland frowned, loosening his grip on the grass, now intrigued. His fright remained, however.

"A-are you... g-going to eat me?" he asked with uncertainty. It gave something resembling a shrug. Either that meant it didn't know yet, or it didn't want to. He hoped it was the latter, but he had yet another question to ask. "Can you... understand me?"

This time, it cocked his head. Maybe it didn't know what he was talking about, but it did seem to understand some words. It responded differently to him saying he was confused.

"Confused... D-do you know what that means?"

It rolled its eyes again, this time in more exaggeration. Maybe it thought he was still confused. Which he was. It should've ripped him to bloody shreds by this point, but it did no such thing. The previous dreadwing, slain by a distraught Harper, hadn't even hesitated in killing everyone on sight.

"You m-might not understand this... But w-why _haven't_ you killed me yet?"

It angled its head again, letting out a deep, guttural sound, as if it were concerned. He said the word 'kill' once again, and was this time responded to with a shake of its head.

So, it understood some words. He was confused as to where its knowledge came from... That is, if it was actually responding properly to him and not just making strange gestures over whatever he said. He hadn't ever seen a wild animal so responsive before, though.

"Understand?" he asked. It cocked its head once more. He tried again with different words. "Comprehend? Discern? _Recognise_?"

It _did_ seem to recognise that. It nodded quickly, almost happily. His creased brow only lowered.

"Recognise... me?"

It nodded its head again. Yes, it was saying. _Yes_. He was in total awe. Both over the fact the thing knew him and could comprehend him, and that it still hadn't eaten him alive.

"Wow..." Roland shook his head. "Am I dead and just dreaming all this somehow? This is... _bizarre._ "

The dreadwing had no response to that question, and he didn't expect it to. He got to his feet and looked at the beast with eyes closer than before. The yellow gaze, the matted grey fur that stuck despite the breeze, blue spotted skin torn by scars and wrinkled slightly by age... It all seemed real enough. He could hear its low thrumming from this distance.

"That must be why you haven't eaten me," he thought out loud. "Y-you... know who I am. But _how_?"

He'd probably never find out. It might've been that it had seen him someday and liked him, but what in the name of the Ancestors were the chances of that? He'd been doomed, yet by no more than a miracle this dreadwing _hadn't_ wanted to devour him. The Ancestors above were smiling upon him.

"What words do you know?" he asked himself, putting a claw to his chin. "Um... Attack?"

When he said it, he had the passing thought that it'd swipe straight at him, gut him, but instead it searched for a target, scanning the forest with its perceptive eyes. The only creature in sight was a small bird pecking at the tree behind them for critters scampering about inside. It was pretty cute. And when the dreadwing took note of it, it growled and instantly took off into the skies, shaking the forest floor.

Roland backed away from the tree, watching as the branch was obliterated under the fury of the dreadwing. The bird turned from little white beauty to red mush in a second, and was gobbled up by the monster moments after. It didn't even have to chew; its claws played the role of its teeth in that exchange.

"W-well, that was... unexpected..."

The dreadwing did something akin to a coo, relishing in the taste of gore. He was sickened, but also fascinated. Not only did it understand him, it would also listen to his commands. It was apparent now that it didn't want to hurt him, and instead desired his presence. 'Why' was beyond him. He was just happy he wasn't that bird.

"What else do you understand?" he questioned, a little more confidently. He spoke the first few words that came to mind, none of which had any effect. "Shake my paw? Roll over? Backflip?"

So, it didn't know any tricks. He said the next word that came to him. "Hug?"

He wasn't prepared for it at all. The dreadwing looked down at him, and charged straight into him. He thought it would hurt, but the creature was astonishingly soft. He was forced once again into the tree, and then the dreadwing lowered itself onto him, its hairy back right below his jaw. It closed its eyes and laid there, wriggling until it was comfortable.

"I-I-I, uh..." Roland didn't know where to place his paws, raising them into the sky. He eventually just decided to gingerly lay them atop the fur of the beast. "You, uh... s-smell really bad, but this is... cute, I guess?"

It was like a huge, winged, terrifying pet dog. He didn't know how to feel about this. It didn't feel bad by any means, though. Just _weird._ Not that he had a reason to complain, of course. This murderous animal hadn't ripped out his brain for dinner yet, and that was good in his books.

In fact, he would go so far as to say its body would make a good place to sleep. Its soft vibrating breaths were comforting, in a sense.

He squeezed its backside gently with his paws. It hummed in pleasure. Now he knew it liked being massaged. He did that for several minutes. When he heard it purr, he couldn't help but chuckle lightly.

"What a strange, strange creature you are..."

" _Roland_!"

Myrtle's voice shocked him out of his trance. The dreadwing shifted and looked up at the green dragoness, then leaped from his body and to its feet, seething with anger that it'd been disturbed.

"I'll kill you, you fucking monster!"

The dreadwing screamed just as Roland covered his ear-holes, yet Myrtle resisted the effects of the paralysis it rendered others under. She sprinted forward, a fierce battle cry frightening the bewildered red dragon on the ground. Before she could do anything rash, he leaped straight over the top of the dreadwing and in front of her

"Stop!"

Myrtle skidded to a halt as soon as she noticed him. Her face was bare inches from his, eyes widened. She couldn't seem to believe he hadn't been turned to bloody pulp.

"I... W-what?"

"I'm A-OK." He put a paw up. "I'm still here. I haven't been eaten yet."

"You're not... The dreadwing, it's right... What?"

The dreadwing behind him growled in response, not daring to attack while Roland was in front and could possibly be injured. He turned around and smiled.

"It's fine. They're my friends." The dreadwing didn't understand his usage of multiple words again, angling its head. "Friend," Roland said, pointing to the green dragoness. It'd hunched over to attack her, but it stood straighter now. It didn't seem very impressed that it had been yelled at, though.

"Y-you know this thing?" Myrtle asked. "I thought it killed you Roland!"

"You definitely sounded like you thought so," he remarked. She seemed a little embarrassed she'd gotten emotional over nothing now. "You had every right to be angry." He grinned. "It must've looked like it was feasting on me from over there."

"I saw red and the dreadwing and I thought you were..." She sighed. "Whatever. At least you're okay. But you didn't answer my first question."

"No, I... don't know it. It does seem to know me, though. I don't know how, and I'm still trying to get over it." He looked back at it. It seemed impatient with Myrtle, like it wanted to eat her anyway. For some reason, it felt the need to also respect Roland's wishes. "I don't really know what's happening. After watching one of them kill so many, this one was just... friendly with me, and I have no clue why. It just wanted me to stop for it, and it seemed a little angry when I got caught by a frogweed."

She looked behind him, staring into the beast's yellow eyes. As it looked at her, it glared. She didn't back down, though, staring back. "Your dog's scary, Roland. It also smells. But as long as you ain't hurt."

"My leg stings a bit, and I've been cut by the branches a few times, but I'm otherwise fine," he said. "Where's Ashlyn? Did she follow you?"

"Here," Ashlyn said, walking through the bushes. She hadn't noticed the monster standing there menacingly behind him when she walked in. The dragoness took three steps back and her jaw dropped. "What the–"

"Friend," Roland said again as it growled at her appearance. It almost seemed disappointed by that, but it sniffed at her scent curiously as she took a step forward. It rolled its eyes and looked back to Roland. "I'll... explain when we head back, Ashlyn. I think we should get going."

The dreadwing didn't like the sound of that. It whimpered, and that made Roland feel bad somehow. It must've heard the phrase before. "Yes. We're... leaving," he said. It looked down as he said so, as if unsatisfied with how long it'd been able to be near him.

Roland was still slightly scared of what it might do, but that fear had mostly worn off. Now, he felt only sad that he had to leave it there. He thought it knew that attempting to get into the city would get it killed, just like the other had. Maybe it'd been watching the whole thing.

"Do you have a name?" he asked. "Just so I don't have to keep calling you _dreadwing_."

It may not have recognised all of that, but the word 'name' definitely stuck out to it. It got closer and raised its head so its large stumpy neck was visible beneath its fur. Roland hadn't noticed before, but there was a necklace beaded with sapphire around its neck, and below it was a tiny stone tag. He wondered who'd made it for the beast. He took it in his paw and scrutinised the miniature rough letters scraped into it.

"...Bone Grinder," he said slowly. "It, uh... definitely suits you. Are you a boy?"

It – he, Roland corrected himself – nodded at that.

"I think we should get a move on before it attacks us, Roly," Myrtle suggested after a moment of silence, eyeing it suspiciously. "I ain't trustin' a wild animal."

"Sh-she's right." Ashlyn shrugged. She still looked bewildered. "I kind of want to get back now. I'm a little scared of that dreadwing."

Roland nodded. "Yep." He looked back at Bone Grinder, who wore perhaps the most depressing face he'd ever seen. "I'll come back. You've... made me _really_ curious. As long as you promise not to eat me."

"You can't be serious, Roland." Myrtle looked at him with a mixture of concern and loathing for Bone Grinder. "That thing's a dangerous animal!"

Bone Grinder couldn't look any happier at his response, though.

"I'll tell you all about him when we're walking back. C'mon."

He constantly wondered on the way back, after talking through his bizarre experience with Bone Grinder the dreadwing. Why did he like him? He had absolutely no reason to. He'd bonded with Roland like _that._ A mere click of the fingers would be too slow to describe it.

Where had he come from? What was his purpose?

That sapphire necklace wasn't his...

Who did Bone Grinder belong to?


	10. Stolen Away

Stolen Away

As they got back from the spring, Roland's joints started aching again, much to his annoyance. He could fly easily enough, but the pain made it not worth it. He didn't think he'd be doing anything intensive for a while.

But hey, he'd made a new _friend_ in the form of a dreadwing. He couldn't complain. At least he hadn't been ground into little pieces by the thousands of fangs lining Bone Grinder's mouth. He'd never seen so many pointy bits on anything before. It freaked him out.

He alighted on the stone, the entrance to the sewers, with Ashlyn right behind him. Myrtle hadn't been very supportive of the idea that Roland wanted to see the dreadwing again, out of pure curiosity, and had left for the city a little vexed. Roland was sure Bone Grinder wouldn't just attack him the next time he came back, though. Why would he listen to him then and not later? The dreadwing had hugged him, for crying out loud!

Meanwhile, Ashlyn didn't have anything to add, and only followed in contemplative silence. Sure, naturally, they'd disagree with his intentions, but he was far too excited by the prospect of this friendly beast. Roland knew he was being far too trusting of Bone Grinder, but there would only be one way to find out if he truly wasn't aggressive towards him.

The more he thought on it, the more excited he became. Strangely, it brought back memories of asking his parents for a pet bird. One day, he'd just been so fascinated by the little critters – he'd made a little nest (although shoddy) and everything for one. He kept asking and asking, yet his parents only declined. His father seemed to have all the power in the decision. He was the one who kept saying it was too much work. His mum agreed nonchalantly, too focused on her own thoughts to care.

He didn't really think he could compare the dreadwing to a pet, though. Bone Grinder was a huge, aggressive, feral beast, with a gullet full of needles and talons that ripped through flesh like thin parchment. The name definitely did him justice. That just made him want to look into dreadwings in spite of the terror, though. He wasn't exactly sure how much information he'd find, especially since the library wouldn't let the infamous Red Rodent wander inside, but he would definitely try.

As he walked down the halls of the sewers, he was reminded of the attack again in the market square. That dreadwing had ripped everything to shreds. This one could so easily pick him up and turn him to paste... He shivered at the thought, but he remained excited. It was too strange to just be a coincidence. The dreadwing only liked _him_. Why was that?

Was Harper right about him being connected somehow to all this? Maybe it was the lack of an element that made the dreadwing passive towards him. They loved the taste of them, apparently. Maybe it didn't go on a frenzy when it couldn't sense it. And, again, the dreadwing had listened to and _hugged him._

Bone Grinder had seemed angry when he ran off, too. Maybe he'd been looking for the red dragon, and was furious his objective had tried to flee from him.

But that would connect Roland somehow to all this. And he didn't want that. It was just too coincidental.

He didn't like feeling special...

"You seem very focused on your thoughts, Roland," Ashlyn said a bit later. "Is it... m-me? I-I'm sorry for yelling, I just have a bad temper and–"

"No, I'm thinking about Bone Grinder, Ashlyn." Roland stopped at the little crevice Ashlyn called her room. It barely had enough room for her. She didn't realise it, but he'd been leading her over this way for a reason. "He's got me real confused."

"Roland, I... really think you should just forget about it." Her eyes were apologetic. Roland shook his head, but she kept going anyway. "I-it's a wild animal. You can't just trust it so easily. What if it hurts you, or worse? It could've so easily done that when you were there. You're extremely lucky."

She almost sounded like a worried mother when she put it that way.

"I can't just forget about it, Ashlyn. There's been too many weird things happening lately, and I'm desperate for answers. And the only lead I've got for any of the bullshit happening is that dreadwing."

"Look, Roland, I... I don't want you to get hurt," she exclaimed.

Roland just smiled.

"It's cute you're worried about my well-being."

She tensed up at that one, and she seemed to realise she did. She'd gotten attached to these sewers pretty quickly.

"But seriously, don't worry. I'm just another dumb thief. What's it to the world if they lose someone so insignificant? People die everyday."

"Th-that's a _horrible_ thing to say!" She looked at him with more concern than he'd ever seen in a dragon's eyes. He didn't feel _that_ important, but Ashlyn seemed to think he was insane for uttering such a thing. "You matter just as much as anyone else, Roland. Don't let anybody _ever_ tell you otherwise."

"Eh... maybe that was little over the top," he said, shrugging. "Anyway, enough of that. I've been wanting to talk to you about _this_ for a while." He gestured towards the hole in the wall. "You need to get out of that hole. You need a room."

"I-I thought all the rooms were taken after looking at them all. They're all furnished differently and all feel really personal. I thought I'd be doing everyone a service by not taking their beds."

"Pfft, there's hardly anyone here most of the time." Roland laughed. "They come back to drop off goodies for us every now and then, and sleep a little, but otherwise they don't stay here. You _cannot_ sleep in that hole and be comfortable. If someone comes back and screams at you for taking their room, tell them to direct themselves to me. I'll give them a piece of my mind."

"B-but that feels really rude..." She looked to the floor.

How polite that she'd rather everyone be comfortable. She was being way too polite to the people that weren't even here, however.

"Listen, it's probably more comfortable out on the streets than in that tiny gap." He would've been stern, but making Ashlyn mad wasn't on the table. "We're finding you a room. Come o–"

"Rolan'!" a voice called. He turned to the interruption. It was that kid who'd been trying to thieve Carolin's plush cheetah a while back. He was one of the only people Roland didn't know the name of down here, despite being here most of the time; he'd just never bothered to ask. The little fire-breather had Carolin's toy held in his claws. "P-please! Help! S-someone h-hurt her, and–"

"Woah, slow down." Roland knelt down to get on his level. The dragon's orange eyes were shining with tears. "What happened? Who was hurt?"

"Carolin!" he exclaimed, thrusting his wings straight into the air. "Sh-she–"

Roland swallowed hard. Who in their right mind would...

Oh no. He _didn't..._

Not after everything before. Not now. Not _her_...

Roland got up, gaze stormy. He breathed, but it came out hitched.

"Where is she now?"

"J-just around the corner, she–"

"Thanks." Without another word, he stormed forward, barely able to keep his anger contained. The strings on his growing resentment for Seth had been pulled too far. The cords had snapped. His chest burned with a volatile rage.

Seth had already gone too far with Drevon. But this was irredeemable. Roland wouldn't take this anymore.

He was done with it. And so was Seth. That brown dragon was no more in his eyes. His scales were as dark as his heart.

Before, he'd been willing to accept an apology. But now, that would no longer cut it.

It was time for Seth to leave.

Roland turned down the corner. He hardly noticed Ashlyn behind him, trying to grab his attention.

"Roland, y-you need to stop! Seth's stronger than–"

"I have had _enough_ of this, Ashlyn!" He didn't bother turning to her. "I'm done with it. I'm sick of his shit. He's not the dragon I used to know."

"Don't do anything rash, Roland. You–"

"Just _shut up_..."

"Rol–"

"SHUT UP!"

Fire blazed in his eyes, and he was hoping that would scare Ashlyn away. She narrowed hers, though, snatching him by the throat, glaring, face centimetres from his. He could only just breathe.

"Let g–"

"You listen to me, Roland." Her tongue could slice steel in half. He shivered under her touch. "Stop this shit. Calm down. He'll see your anger and he'll use it against you. You're smarter than this, and you know you are. Don't be a reckless dumb-arse."

"But he–"

"No. _Fucking_. Buts. Stop this right now. _Breathe_ , Roland."

She'd silence a dreadwing with those words. Roland did as he was told.

"I'm mad, too," she said, the poison leaving her system. She let go of his neck, and she even looked sorry she'd done such a thing, but the glare remained. She had a temper, one easily shattered, and he kept on forgetting that. "Carolin's been one of the kindest people I've ever met. I just don't want you getting yourself hurt. Seth won't give a damn if you hit him. He'll hit back harder. Let's just try to solve this calmly... alright?"

He breathed. In, then out. He looked down, then back at Ashlyn. The flames dissipated as quickly as they'd appeared, leaving only embers of hatred for the brown dragon.

Anger wouldn't get him anywhere. He was stupid to think so. It was wrong to think he still wasn't a little mad, however.

"...Alright."

"Good." She started leading the way. Roland followed a step behind her. "Let's hope Carolin's not hurt too badly."

They rounded the corner, the sewer stretching into a wide compartment before them. Two murky streams coursed down the sides, the middle made completely of cobblestone. Carolin sat in the centre, paw clasped against her head, and another dragoness – he believed it was Leurona, the one who'd brought Ashlyn to the sewers – tried to comfort her. He knew Leurona for crazy antics, but her blue face was dead serious now. She held a piece of steel in one paw, speckled with blood, and she seemed to be examining it.

Roland and Ashlyn rushed towards the two; Seth wasn't in sight. He'd run off once again, left everybody else to pick up the pieces he'd left in ruin behind. Roland knelt as he reached a teary-eyed Carolin. Behind her paw, he could see a sticky red coursing from the side of her head and down her cheek.

"Seth hit her with this," Leurona said, holding the slice of metal up. It was thick and, shockingly, barbed. It could've shattered Carolin's skull had he hit the wrong place. "I hope you don't mind my language, but... he's an arsehole. This is just _wrong_ on so many levels."

"We've already established that," Roland replied, putting a paw on Carolin's shoulder. She didn't look up at the new touch, focused on her blood steadily dripping onto the ground. "Carolin? Are you okay? ...No, stupid question. Where's Drevon?"

Carolin didn't respond. Her head moved slightly from side to side. Ashlyn waved a paw in front of Carolin's eyes, and only then did she look up. She didn't look straight at her, though, instead into the empty space of the pipe.

Ashlyn shook her head. "I think she might have a serious concussion. She needs spirit gems and a bed. Can you do that for her, Leurona?"

"I have a few gems of my own. And to answer your question, Roland, I haven't seen Drevon around. Last I saw he was flying somewhere." She wrapped a wing around Carolin's frame and lifted her to her feet. Carolin's legs buckled under the immediate stress, and she whimpered in pain. "Hey, Kage, get over here and help me out!"

The little orange dragon had been waiting around the corner the entire time, but now he came sprinting to help. He did struggle to get his wing around Carolin, being a tiny bit smaller than her, but his strength was of use to Leurona who was only just a little bigger than Carolin.

"Where did Seth go?" Roland peered down the corridor, but there was still no sign of him. Part of him had been hoping he'd show up to confront them about this.

"He went down there." Leurona pointed down the hall and to the left. At least, I was walking the other way when he passed me, and that's when I found Carolin."

"Thanks," Ashlyn said, standing up. Leurona nodded.

"C'mon, Carolin. You've been hit pretty bad." She and Kage walked down the pipe until they turned the corner, in the opposite direction Seth had gone. Roland stared after her for what felt like a minute.

"She'll be fine. She just needs a lot of rest." Ashlyn's smile was reassuring, he couldn't deny that. The confidence just seemed to come out of nowhere with her. It was almost like meeting a new person everyday. But he guessed that was just her. She obviously felt the need to be confident and commanding in this situation. "Now, come on. You need to talk some sense into that brown dragon – you know him better than anyone – but first we've got to find him."

They didn't run, but their pace was quick nonetheless. The place Roland assumed Seth would go was the office, and so he turned down that way. The door was fast approaching. Now that he wasn't blinded by rage, he felt scared walking down this way.

He'd been hoping Seth would give in to his rage earlier. Expected it, even. But that was idiotic to believe. Seth wouldn't just back down. He was stubborn.

But Roland needed to succeed. Seth had to go. He'd done too much.

For Drevon and for Carolin, he'd make it so.

He placed his paw on the door handle, grip quivering. Ashlyn looked at him and noticed his apprehension, and only gave him another smile. It was reassuring enough. He'd have somebody with him every step of the way.

"Let's do this," he said, and turned the handle.

The office was dark. Seth's lantern wasn't lit. For a second, Roland thought there was no sign of him, but Seth's form was faint in the darkness. He was behind the desk in the centre, his spine to the back wall. He didn't look up from his position as they entered.

Roland had had a few words in mind, but he faltered when he saw him like that. He carefully reached for the electric lantern and flicked it on, his eyes unmoving from Seth's position. The light barely glowed. He opened his mouth to speak, but closed it a few moments later. Ashlyn shuffled awkwardly beside him.

"What do you want, Roland?" Seth spoke. He seemed to choke on the words, and his voice was nasally.

Roland trod very carefully around the room to Seth's position. He cleared his throat. Just looking at the brown dragon angered him, but... there was something different about him that Roland couldn't quite see in the lamplight. "...You need to stop, Seth."

Still, Seth didn't look up, his eyes pinned to the ground. As Roland got closer, he realised Seth was missing part of a horn, and there was a small dent in the stone wall above him. The piece that'd snapped off lay a few metres from him. A dragon's pride, shattered.

"I can't," Seth said. Roland stopped where he was. Ashlyn wasn't following him anymore, waiting in the doorway. She didn't try to interrupt.

"Why?" Roland asked. "It's wrong, and I think you know it."

"Because I don't want to get hurt."

His answer confused the red drake at first, but then he knew what he spoke of.

"You're scared of Drevon, aren't you?"

Seth didn't react for a few moments. He didn't make a move. "...Yes. I am."

Seth was more so now than he'd ever been. He'd been fearful of the power Drevon contained, but when Drevon was pushed to his limit, he'd witnessed that full force. He'd nearly died because of it.

"And now I realise I've fucked up more than ever," Seth continued. "I didn't even want to hit _her_. She approached me about her brother, and... I just couldn't handle thinking about him. I've felt so alone for a long time... My mother used to tell me it was okay to do what you want to get what you want all the time. It felt... _good,_ when I was down, when I was scared _._ Now I know that's just wrong."

Surprisingly, Roland found his words genuine. Even if Seth sounded genuine, though, he was still ready for anything the brown dragon would throw at him. He couldn't be trusted so easily. "You could've killed her, Seth. Very, _very_ easily. You hit her with a block of barbed steel."

"I know. That's why I'm in here, hiding from it."

Roland didn't remove his gaze from Seth as he walked to cracked shard of silver horn on the ground. He took the piece in his paw, and studied it and Seth with the corner of his eye. An act of self-loathing.

"Why did you smash your head against the wall?" he questioned. Seth's breath shook.

"I don't deserve it. To be a dragon. We're the most powerful creatures in the world, Roland, but I've only used that power to do awful things." Seth finally looked up. His eyes shone with tears. "I've rammed into the wall behind me so many times before this. T-today it finally broke."

Roland sat on the floor, discarding the brittle shard. "Drevon would never willingly hurt anyone, Seth. Purple dragons have never had a good reputation, no. But other than a few more elements than you, he's just a normal dragon."

"That dark power, though, Roland... Aren't you afraid?"

Roland leaned against the wall, eyeing the doorway. Ashlyn had since left the room to the two of them. He was sure she was just waiting outside, however. "No, I never have been. It's his dark side. We all have one. As long as we all keep each other happy, though, it'll never have to be brought out. That's what I've always wanted to have down here. More than wealth. I might be greedy, but I'll always put everyone else above greed. But you going around and doing what you've done..."

Seth's eyes fell to the floor once again. The room was quiet, except for his occasional shaky breath.

"Even after all that, I... I still want _you_ to be happy, Seth." It was the truth. Roland found he did still care, if only slightly. Maybe if Seth was happy, he'd stop what he was doing. The red dragon didn't know if he wanted to wait and see, though. "...Drevon wants to be normal like the rest of us, you know. He would never let dark aether consume him on purpose. _He's_ scared of it, Seth. And you were the one to bring it out. If you think trying to scare him will hold it back, you're wrong. You're just making it worse. You're making everyone's life more diff–"

"I've realised all that, okay?!" Seth raised his voice. For once, though, the anger left him quicker than ever. "Just... what if it comes out one day, and nobody's at fault? It happened to Spyro. It could happen to him."

"I believe in Drevon not to succumb to that," Roland said. "Drevon's a perfectly fine person if you get to know him. He's just like any of us, Seth. Just another thief."

Seth didn't say a word. He didn't seem to believe Roland at all. The red dragon exhaled.

If Seth couldn't believe that Drevon was a good person at heart, there was really only one option.

"Look, if you have a problem with Drevon," Roland began, "then you've gotta leave. I'm not making Drevon go anywhere over purple scales. If he really scares you that much..."

"Yeah, I was waiting for you to say it." Seth sighed. Roland didn't really feel like he needed to continue, but he did anyway.

"You're the one with the problem. It might do you better to get away from here if I'm being honest. If you can't deal with Drevon's presence, this is your best option. And I really don't want you to stay only to keep hitting him, to satisfy yourself."

Seth nodded. "I understand... Roland, I... I was planning to, anyway. I didn't want to tell you. I knew what my issue was and I just couldn't help it. So, I need to get away from it. That's all there is to it."

Roland was kind of shocked he had been planning to go after all this time. It made him feel bad for telling Seth himself.

"I'll get going now," Seth said, lifting himself to his feet. He started walking past Roland. "I'll find someplace else. It's for the best."

Roland didn't know what to say. His mind was full of questions, but none of them would leave his mouth. Seth had been wanting to leave of his own accord. He could barely register that.

"You can keep everything in here." Seth pointed to the entirety of the office. "My gift to you..." He walked through the door. "See ya, Roland."

Roland was about to tell him to wait up, but Seth poked his head back in a second later. "Oh, before I go. I... left a little something in the top drawer of the desk for you. It was supposed to be a birthday present, to make up for everything, but I'm not gonna be around to give it to you. It's getting cold, Roland."

"S-Seth, wait–"

"I-I'm sorry, Roland, for... _everything_."

Then, without another word, he left, leaving Roland alone in the gloom.

He felt like he'd betrayed Seth somehow.

Seth had only ever been frightened. If he'd realised that and hadn't thought up all those other reasons, maybe he could've stopped all this earlier.

Maybe Seth had never really had to leave. Maybe he could...

"He never wanted any of this..."

Roland peered after him one last time, a brown speck that faded seconds later. He almost ran after him, but his legs held firm.

No, Seth had left. It was done. There was no coming back.

"See you, Seth."

He fell to his hindquarters. Ashlyn stepped through the door, the surprise apparent in her eyes.

"It was just like that, huh?" she asked. "Gone?"

"Yep."

"N-never coming back?"

"Yep."

"I... guess I overestimated what Seth would try to do to you."

Roland leaned his head against the wall Seth had smashed his against. He picked up the shard again, studying it carefully. The only memory left, the good inside of him.

Everything Seth had done to Drevon was terrible, no doubt about it. Roland still felt sickened Seth would do such a thing. He... loathed Seth for all that. He despised him more for bringing Carolin and himself into this. Those actions were inexcusable, no matter the reason.

At least Seth had tried to leave on a good note. Maybe he could've redeemed himself in time, but it was done now.

Roland made a move, throwing that piece of Seth leftover away. It was already weak, cracked, and crumbled as it hit the floor again. He paced over to the desk, Ashlyn eyeing him worriedly.

"Do you hate him?" she asked.

Roland opened the top drawer. Folded neatly inside was a thick red scarf, one that matched his scales perfectly, the end trimmed with a yellow that would accent his horns. It was like it'd been knitted specifically for him.

"I'll always hate him after what he did." Roland lifted the scarf and found a creased note underneath it. He picked that up as well. He read through Seth's final words.

 _'In the winter, we were always cold when we were younger. Remember when we used to huddle up next to my matchbox? How dumb we were, thinking a lit match could warm us up. We could never find anything to use as tinder, and someone would surely spot the smoke inside these confines._

 _Nevertheless, this will keep you warm. It's the least I could do. I hope it brings back good memories, not the stuff I've done in recent times. I just want you to smile again. Properly, Roland. An actual smile._

 _I'm so sorry._

 _Seth.'_

"But," Roland continued, rubbing a paw against his eyes, "I can respect him for what he tried to do in the end. He at least deserves that."

* * *

"So, where did you go?" Roland asked, pacing down the pipelines. Drevon walked a few feet away from him. He'd only just gotten back from wherever he'd headed, and now they were moving towards their bedrooms. Roland had sat down with his pocket watch, which read midnight, in the entrance for some alone time.

"...Nowhere, bud. Just over the seas for a bit." He shrugged. "I flew around for a little while. And... then I had another hallucination, while I was in the sky."

Roland's interest was piqued. "What did you see?"

He sighed. "Fire. Lots and lots of fire, Roly. Firemore was burning."

Roland's eyes widened. "I had that exact same vision..."

"Visions and hallucinations are different things, bud," Drevon said, looking over at him. Roland could swear he saw a faint smirk trace his mouth. For once, Drevon was the one with answers. He probably was well-versed on the subject, considering he received them both frequently. "Visions transport your mind to other places. You can see them, hear them, even taste them sometimes. Hallucinations are just things I see when I'm out and about. They're distracting, but they don't make me fall unconscious like visions."

"Well, I saw Firemore ablaze, _too_ ," Roland replied, trying to relate. "I was inside it, though, and I could hear people screaming. There was this black shadowy thing with white eyes."

"Just saw everything on fire for a bit, I did. I had to blink a few times before it went away. And I was so distracted, I almost fell into the water. I was flying pretty low."

Roland lifted a brow. "You shouldn't be flying low against the water, Drevon. That's sea serpent territory out there. Those things will snap up at you and swallow you whole. Exports here have a hard enough time keeping to the shallow parts of the sea."

"I do know the routes, actually," Drevon said, shrugging again. "But yeah, you've got a point."

They fell silent. Drevon didn't seem to know what to say, and neither did Roland. There was this awkward air between them that Roland found peculiar. They were never usually this quiet.

Drevon looked in thought, with the way he stared blankly forward. That excitable purple dragon didn't generally think so deeply, but he had been doing that for quite some time now. It pained Roland to not see him happy anymore. These past weeks had changed him.

Roland decided he really didn't like that change. As irritating as Drevon's previous excitability had been to him, he still loved that far more than the depressing aura he carried now. And when Drevon caught him looking at him, Roland thought the purple dragon sensed the awkwardness silencing them too, and tried to lift his head and put on a small smile.

He only sighed in response.

"Roland..." Drevon started. He was in thought still, but probably for something to spice up their conversation. "That's a... really nice scarf you've got there. Where did you get it? I guess it is getting a bit cold."

He'd forgotten he'd even been wearing it. Then he remembered he needed to tell Drevon the news.

"No, it was a parting gift... from Seth."

Drevon looked taken aback. The red drake wasn't too sure how Drevon would react to such a thing.

" _Parting_ gift?" he asked. "You mean he left?"

"Yep. Exactly that." They finally arrived at Roland's door. He already had his paw on the handle. He was finding it difficult to keep his eyes open. "He thought it was the right thing to do. He... was scared of you, Drevon."

Drevon shrugged. Somehow, he didn't sound relieved at all. "You know, I... I kind of figured. People were scared of Spyro's darkness. It only makes sense somebody's scared of mine. It was the things he was saying to me. You weren't there, but he said all sorts of things about how I was going to destroy everything and... I don't really want to think about it, Roland. Weird of him to just pack up and leave... Did he do anything after I left?"

"Yeah, he hit Carolin with a block of steel," he said calmly. The purple drake's head jerked towards his.

"What!?" he exclaimed. "Is she okay!?"

"Y-yeah, she's fine!" he hurriedly explained. "Ashlyn thinks she's got a concussion, though. She's resting right now, and Leurona's watching over her. I really don't think we should disturb–"

"No, I need to check on her." Defiantly, Drevon jogged towards her room, on the very far end of the pipe they were in. Roland exhaled and ran after him. He desired no more than the warmth of his bed, but he didn't exactly want an aching Carolin to deal with her fretful brother for too long. He should've been expecting this as soon as he told him.

Drevon stopped at her door and put his head up against it, listening for Carolin. He wasn't satisfied with that, though, and before Roland could tell him to leave her be for now, he opened the door with almost a barge.

"Carolin?" Drevon called. "You in here?"

Roland's tired eyes swept across the room, but he found only darkness, the lamps attached to the walls not reaching the end of this pipe. Carolin kept a wax candle on a bookshelf next to her door, however, and he'd struck a match by the time Drevon had stopped walking around the room.

Her room consumed by firelight, Roland looked to her bed, but was startled out of his exhausted daze when he saw a figure right beside it. Leurona had been watching over her, but now he saw her unconscious on the floor. Had she been knocked out?

He nearly approached, then realised he was being an idiot. No, she'd just fallen asleep. It _was_ midnight after all. A youngish dragoness like her wouldn't have the energy to stay up on watch, not that she really needed to down here.

There was a dragon-like lump in the bed, anyway. Carolin was deep in her sheets, swallowed whole by them. Drevon had made his way over to the side of her bed.

"Carolin," he spoke again, placing a paw where her shoulder would've been. "Wake up."

The green dragoness didn't even stir. She definitely had been needing this rest. Drevon did go too far, Roland thought, when he pulled the covers off her body. Why couldn't he just leave her–

Drevon gasped, putting a paw to his muzzle. Intrigued by his concern, Roland walked over and got a better look at what was there. Or rather, what wasn't

That lump in her bed had been no more than a few pillows. Drevon ripped them off her bed and found absolutely nothing.

She was _gone_.

"You said she was resting!" Drevon said, looking towards him with frightened, almost blaming eyes. "She shouldn't be up at a time like this, especially not with a concussion!"

"Well, I don't know where she went!" Roland flared his wings. "Leurona was supposed to watch over her, but she's fallen asleep. She probably just went out on a walk."

"W-well, like... don't assign somebody so young to watch her!"

"I didn't really have much of a choice, considering Seth was the main priority!"

"You could've taken over when you were done! I trust you more!"

Leurona groaned and the two dragons looked over. She had a paw to her forehead.

"Ouch... My head..."

Drevon turned around, desperately hoping Leurona would have an answer to this problem. It would only be futile, though, considering she'd been asleep.

"Leurona!" Drevon startled her with the frantic calling of her name. "Where did Carolin go?!"

"W-wait, what?" Leurona angled her head, and then looked over to the bed. Her eyes widened. "...Oh, shit."

"So, you don't know?" Roland rushed over to the other side of the bed. She looked like she was in serious head trauma.

"N-no... Somebody hit me hard in the head. Ouch..."

Roland's heart skipped a beat. "Wait, what?"

"I must have been knocked out..."

He had assumed correctly before. And if Carolin was gone, that meant...

That meant somebody had _taken_ her!

Drevon didn't seem to know what to think. He was in utter shock. Leurona realised what her explanation meant only moments after. And Roland felt like he couldn't move.

Who in the name of the Ancestors would take Carolin?! First she'd been whacked in the skull with a block of steel, and now she'd been stolen away from them!

He breathed, trying to calm himself. He remembered Ashlyn telling him that when he got angry earlier. It definitely helped. "O-okay," he started a few seconds later. "Let's not assume the worst just yet. You never know, m-maybe they had good intentions."

"Roland, that's completely fucking stupid!" Drevon yelled. Roland wasn't at all taken aback by his shout. He'd expected that, but he did feel like an idiot for suggesting such a thing when he thought harder about it. "Who would just _knock somebody out_ if they didn't have bad intentions?! Someone's _kidnapped_ her!"

"M-maybe she... knocked Leurona out herself?"

"She couldn't hurt a dragonfly, Roland!"

"Stop arguing!" Leurona shouted above them. "And Roland, stop being stupid!" The smaller dragoness had a voice bigger than the pair of them. She looked at Carolin's little clock, sitting beside a lamp on a small cupboard. "I was hit five or ten minutes ago. They can't have gone far, and we're wasting time just standing here!"

"You're right," Roland replied. "Leurona, who's here in the sewers?"

"Myrtle, Kage, Flare, Trix, you, me, and him. I'll round them up."

"What about Ashlyn?" She wouldn't be out at this time, surely. She liked her sleep.

Leurona shrugged. "She said she went out for a walk and hasn't come back. I'm sort of worried, honestly. She kept saying things about you before she left, Roland. I think she wanted to impress you by stealing something."

Roland was flattered, but now was no time to be worrying about that. They had a dragoness to find before it was too late.

"Alright. We'll all go through the moleholes, because I didn't see anyone come through the entrance. Look for any sign of Carolin."

"Got it." With that, Leurona rushed off, sprinting down the corridors. Roland looked to Drevon.

"She better be fine. If not..."

Roland put a paw to his shoulder. "I'm sure she's okay. They haven't gone far with her. We'll get her back."

Drevon stormed off, tripping Roland up. "We better..."

Roland really did hope so. He knew it was not only Carolin at stake here. It was his friend, too. Roland could only imagine what would happen to Drevon if he lost his little sister.

He didn't want to imagine it.

* * *

There was absolutely no sign of her anywhere. The more they looked, the more panicked Drevon became, and the less hope Roland had. Firemore was a huge city, almost as enormous as the great dragon city to the south. It occurred to Roland that searching the vast breadth of his hometown would take aeons if they couldn't find her this night.

Drevon hadn't stopped jogging aimlessly through the night. Roland kept close, but running forever into the thick gloom of Firemore's older streets was taking its toll on him. Every muscle in his body had already been aching, and he felt as if his bones were about to collapse in on themselves.

It had been hours of running. Roland had only kept up for the hope they'd find Carolin quickly, but the darkness had eaten her. Drevon, once again, called out his sister's name.

"Carolin! Where are you?!"

Nobody came.

Roland stopped as soon as they happened upon a street light, a rusty iron bench right beside it. He'd run a marathon already. Drevon came skidding to a halt, and rushed over to Roland.

"No, we can't stop running, Roland! We _have_ to find her!"

"D-Drevon." He gasped for air. "J-j-just... give me a second."

"The longer we wait, the less time we'll have!" he exclaimed, pulling on his best friend's leg attached to the bench. Roland kicked his paw away. Drevon was taken aback by his aggression.

Roland held onto the bench for support, wiping his brow of sweat with the scarf wrapped around his neck. "I'm exhausted! We can't run forever, Drevon! It's been _hours_. _"_

"She's still out there, Roland, we can–"

"Drevon!" he yelled. His desperate attempts to cling onto hope had finally failed him. His body was poisoned with grief and guilt. No amount of searching this night would ever find that green dragoness. "Sh-she's gone! I can't run anymore..."

"She is NOT being taken away from me!" Drevon shouted back. "If you won't keep going, then just fuck off!"

Roland's heart ached at those words. But he knew there was no point. It was a fruitless effort; it had always been in vain. "Drevon, you can't keep running; we're not getting anywhere. We need to sit down and–"

"FUCK OFF!" Drevon screamed, setting his body alight. He knelt down for a second before blasting off in a furious comet dash. Roland tried to grab at him, but he was far too late on that front, and would've been singed had he reached him.

His eyes fell to the ground. He couldn't blame the purple dragon. Carolin was his world.

That world had been ripped to shreds, though. They weren't finding her in this darkness, if not ever. She was gone...

He planted himself on the metallic bench. The black was thick, almost choking. It reminded him of Drevon and what he'd become. If Carolin was gone, then it would only come back. And Roland didn't know what to do about that. He wouldn't be able to convince Drevon again, not with his sister gone.

Not with him thinking she was _dead_.

Roland still clutched onto the belief that she wasn't yet. But the longer he waited, the more the light of hope shining through the cracks of his melancholy would dim and give way unto the night.

Minutes passed. Drevon hadn't come back. That purple dragon wouldn't stop at anything, not until his bones ached and his eyes closed. Roland knew it was time to give up, though. Nobody would help their guild find Carolin, nor would anyone be able to.

He felt a drop of rain hit his snout.

"Almost comical how well that's timed..."

The bench was low to the ground, so he dragged his tail along the ground. He scratched shapes into the stone with the edge of his tail blade.

There was a metallic jingle as the end of his tail knocked something skidding across the pavement. Just a stray coin, he thought, fallen out of an unfortunate soul's wallet. His curiosity got the better of him, however, and he just had to examine it. What else could he do?

He paced up slowly, and bent down to look at the rocky floor. It didn't turn out to be a coin, in fact. It was a ring, golden and embedded with a small sapphire. It might fetch a nice price on the market, but otherwise it was rubbish. Any greed had left him as despair took over. He decided to merely throw it away...

Almost.

His eyes scanned it further as memories flooded his mind. He'd seen this before.

"Wait, this is Ashlyn's ring," he said. The design was unmistakable. He'd never seen another of its kind. It shined so perfectly, just like the scales on that blue dragoness, in spite of her time in the sewers. It was recently polished, too, and that was enough to conclude it was hers.

He frowned. Ashlyn's ring out here? Had she lost it on the walk she'd taken? He ought to give it back to her. She'd be worried sick, knowing she'd lost something so valuable. He didn't know where it was from, but it was a trinket that definitely meant something to her. Oh, she'd be overjoyed to have it back.

He'd thought she was more careful than this, though. How would something so snug and tight on one of her toes fall off like this? She'd notice if it ever came came off.

"...Why _did_ she go on such a long walk?" he asked himself. "It's the _middle of the night_ now."

She hadn't been trying to get away from anything, as far as he knew, not like Drevon. Who would just go out like this? Maybe she was becoming one of their thieves who took to staying outside the sewers.

She hadn't seemed very insistent on going at all, though...

Maybe she was still trying to find a way to impress him, like Leurona said. He hoped she wasn't going to work herself too hard. She'd be buggered at this time.

He had no idea what to make of this anyway. He looked at the ring in his claws once again, and frowned, a single thought overpowering all.

"What if she took Carolin?"

As soon as he'd said it to himself he felt disgusted by the words. No, he couldn't be blaming her. That was just straight up wrong. She wasn't like that at all. As long as you didn't get on her bad side, she was one of the kindest, most polite dragons he knew. She would never just up and go with someone too weak to fight back.

He thought harder about it and his experiences with her. Their first meeting, she'd been very shy. He'd gotten used to that. But she'd mentioned something bad after he explained what they did in the sewers. He'd taken it as nothing then.

"No, Roland, it's nothing," he growled at himself. "Stop being a dickhead."

Her strange need to run off during the heist... Why had she done that again? Her old home, and she'd felt scared of the place?

He frowned. She had been pretty mysterious this whole time.

He was just about to call himself another name for thinking idiotically when there came a crack in the distance. Looking to the dim skies, he thought it was thunder, but the rain was still only a sprinkle and hadn't picked up yet. No, something had _broken_ to the north of him, and it wasn't far away.

He wondered what before it came again, louder.

Roland decided to run after it, placing Ashlyn's ring in his pocket watch, the compartment big enough to house the small clock and the jewellery. He could go back and return her ring soon, after Drevon came back, of course. He had a noise to inspect first. Letting go of his thoughts, he jogged down the streets

Another crack, louder, closer, followed by a blast. Loose rock and dirt sprinkled across the ground. Roland was all too familiar with that noise. Earthen magic.

He stopped in his tracks.

It couldn't be him. Not after _leaving_... Was he really still at it?!

"L-let go!" a faint young voice cried, the rain growing thicker. Carolin! He didn't waste a second. It had all been a farce after all. Seth would _never_ mean any of what he said. Roland sprinted around the corner and down the street the brown monster had taken her through.

"Carolin!" he called above the noise flooding his ears. He could barely hear himself, but the response he received rekindled the hope in his chest in an instant. An inferno of determination burned inside him.

"Roland!" she yelled back. "Hel–"

The rest was either cut off by the torrent now falling, or Seth shutting her mouth up. He was able to hear where she was, though. Not far now.

"I'm coming, Carolin! Hang in there!"

He dashed through the alleyway, hearing muffled feet scamper along the sopping ground. He leaped straight over the wall on the end and sprinted through to the other side. Seth couldn't run far, not with an injured dragoness by his side, pulling on her.

Roland would put an end to this, once and for all. This was as far as Seth would ever go again!

When he reached the other end of the street, he saw a jumble of bodies, one struggling to free herself, the other trying his damnedest to rush forth. They were taking the next alleyway. He'd surely corner Seth there. He wouldn't ever get over that wall with the dragoness weighing him down.

Seth did try to leap it, but he failed, clawing at the bottom. He looked to be panicking, and was helplessly struggling to hold onto the green dragoness. Roland bared his fangs and charged forward, the speed of the Ancestors behind his legs.

"R-Roland!" Carolin screamed again. He could see her desperate eyes now. Seth had stopped trying. He knew he was going to be cornered. He knew he was going to have to fight.

And Roland knew that, too. He hadn't fought a real battle in his life, but he charged in there as if he'd fought thousands.

"Stop!" a different voice yelled. It was the other dragon, but that feminine tone couldn't possibly be Seth's. Roland came grinding to a halt at the unexpected voice.

"J-just... stop."

Roland couldn't believe his eyes. Lit by an iron lamp on the side of the building, her eyes glimmered in the dim light.

"Ashlyn?"

"Roland, please!" Carolin yelled, her face soaked in the rain and tears. "Help m–"

Ashlyn put a paw over Carolin's muzzle and had her restrained in the grip of the her wing. "I-I'm s-sorry, Roland, b-but..." She could barely say the words. If Roland looked hard enough, he could see tears pricking at her own eyes as well. The fire growing in his veins couldn't be doused by even the downpour, however.

"What are you _doing_ with her, Ashlyn!?" he yelled at her. "Let her go!"

Carolin's paws glowed, but Ashlyn immediately took note and slammed a paw into her gut. The green dragoness choked on her own element. Roland had half a mind to thrust his body into her right then.

"Roland, I-I... p-please let me expl–"

"Let her the fuck go, you monster!" he cut her off. All doubt had left him. It was her. And he didn't know what to think. "If you do _anything_ to her, I'll make sure you fucking pay!"

He took a single step towards her, his entire body shivering with rage. Everything he'd known about her was a lie. She'd been lying to all their faces, just so she could get a hold of Carolin.

But why in the hell would she do that?!

"Roland, j-just–"

"You can explain _right_ after you give her to me!" Yet another step. A few more, and he'd been in striking distance. And, if she didn't do anything this instant, that was exactly what he'd do. He didn't care if she was stronger; he would hit her as hard as he could.

She looked to him, defeated. Roland huffed. Tears flowed from Carolin's eyes.

He started shaking in fear, then. She had nothing more to say. That was scarier than whatever she'd been trying to tell him.

He breathed through clenched teeth.

"Let her go, Ashlyn."

Only a sob came from her muzzle.

"I-I'm sorry, Roland."

He thrust a paw forward as soon as she opened her mouth again. Carolin's eyes rolled in the back of her head as she choked, red splattering against rain-soaked stone. Roland rushed forward and barged Ashlyn out of the way, catching Carolin before she hit the ground.

She was limp in his paws, a sharp icicle driven through her skull. The warmth faded from her body. Emotionless, green eyes stared back into his.

He fell to his knees. His eyes watered.

Gone, in no more than a snap. Life ended before his very eyes. He couldn't move, couldn't breathe, her body falling from his paws. He could only stare at that icicle and the gathering crimson around it, washing away. Her blood, her memories, everything, drained in the gutter.

"No..."

It was all he uttered. All he _could_ utter. There were no words.

Carolin was gone. She was _gone._

That young soul hadn't even lived, and here she was, a cold corpse on the ground.

He turned. He didn't even know what he would say to Ashlyn, but she wasn't there. She'd sprinted far, far away, before he could retaliate.

He clenched his fists.

He fell to his knees again in front of her, the rain melting the icicle. All that was left was a gaping, bloody hole. He thought he was going to vomit at the sight.

Scampering, wet paws met Roland's ears. He didn't bother turning. Drevon had been too late.

"Roland," the purple dragon said. "I heard you yelling and I–"

"She's dead, Drevon. Ashlyn killed her." Roland choked at the words. Drevon ran forward, stopping at his sister's feet.

"C-Carolin..."

Drevon's world crumbled. Everything he lived for was gone. He fell to his knees.

He wrapped two paws around Carolin. Roland draped a shaking wing over his best friend as he sobbed into his sister's shoulder.

Roland knew what it was like to see someone die. He'd seen those people in the market square. His mother had driven ice through her own skull. It was just fact that they were dead now. Nothing more than that.

But Carolin, a young friend, kind to all... he couldn't deal with that. She'd had so much more life to look forward to. She deserved that, more than anyone. And yet, here she was, slain by her own kindness.

She, of all dragonkind, shouldn't have died.

It should've been him...

It felt like hours before Drevon finally sat up. He wiped his eyes on his paw. He opened his maw, lip quivering.

"I... I'm going to find her," he said, voice tight. "And I am going to kill her. Mark my words, Carolin."

In all honesty, Roland felt Ashlyn deserved it. She _fucking deserved it_. She wasn't allowed to have that honour, to decide the fate of someone everyone cared for.

Drevon ran off once again into the night, and Roland didn't try to stop him this time. He didn't care anymore. Carolin was sitting dead right in front of him. Darkness, or no darkness, Roland didn't give a single shit.

All he did was lift himself up and walk away into the darkness, back to the sewers, the body of the one stolen away from them all hoisted onto his back.


	11. The Start of an Era

The Start of an Era

When Roland returned, the people that still chose to live in the sewers had already stopped searching. They'd tried for hours, just like him, but there had been no sign of the dragoness they'd lost.

And then Roland brought her back, eyes wet, face stone-blank. He'd tried so hard to keep his guilt, his melancholy, suppressed. But when Myrtle looked at him with shocked eyes, jaw dropped, he couldn't help but break down.

"It's okay," she kept on saying, giving him her shoulder to cry on. "It's okay."

That was a lie and she knew it, too. But at least she was there for him. Each step carrying Carolin's cold, dead body had broken him more, until he'd finally snapped.

It was a few minutes after when Myrtle ordered everyone outside, to the very edge of the forest. There were no objections. Myrtle carried the body that time. Roland walked far from everyone else, and Myrtle seemed to understand he needed time to himself.

They dug a grave. Roland sat and watched. Myrtle said he'd done enough for that night. He remembered exhaustion finally taking its toll on him there, and passing out.

It was a few days later when he decided to head out to the spot they'd chosen for Carolin, finally summoning the courage to step outside his room. Myrtle had been eager to come with him. It wasn't like he would protest. She had just as much right as anyone to visit her, but she hadn't seemed to think so when she asked him for his permission. She was probably just worried about catching him in a terrible mood, if he had to guess. But the company was definitely appreciated on his part.

He sat, staring at the small wooden stick jutting out of the ground and the mound of fresh dirt beneath it for what felt like an eternity. Myrtle didn't make a sound, occasionally glancing at him, probably thinking over the events he'd just explained to her.

It was all his fault. He should've charged into Ashlyn when he had the chance, shouldn't have given _her_ a chance to fix what she'd done. Ashlyn had killed her, but he felt just as culpable as that manipulative back-stabber should've felt.

It shouldn't have ended this way, and it was his fault that it had.

He shouldn't have been so trusting...

And now Drevon was gone, too. He hadn't come back yet, and Roland was worried. Wasn't even there for his sister's funeral. They couldn't have waited for him, either, for they couldn't leave a dead body lying around. He was determined to find Ashlyn and avenge his sister, or at least that was what Roland thought. If that was the case, at this rate, he'd forever be searching for his sister's murderer, and he wouldn't ever find her.

Roland felt like he knew what was coming. Drevon would break, his mind would shatter. The red dragon remembered that feeling of dark aether. It twisted his gut.

He wished he could help. Wished the guard could help. But nobody would assist the Red Rodent.

Harper told him the guards were useless when it came to tracking down him. It was as if they just relied on people to be good to each other. For the most part, people didn't want to hurt each other, but when it really mattered, they couldn't do anything. Roland felt useless, even more so guilty, when he felt as if he'd worn the guard's hope thin.

Everything was changing for the worse, and he felt like it was all his doing. Not realising things in time. Being an imbecile. Trusting a stranger.

He shook his head, further descending into the deep pits of his mind. He tried and tried to do his best, but nothing would ever work out.

Carolin had paid for his idiocy.

He looked into the sky and wished he could turn back time and change it all...

"I know when you blame yourself for things, Roly," Myrtle said, reading the thoughts coursing through his mind. "You get this look of defeat about you. Whenever somethin' bad happens, you blame yourself. I mean.. you've been sitting in your room for three days. I've had to come and slide food under your door, and you wouldn't even say anythin'."

"I could've been faster," he said, voice small.

"What's done is done. Fate is fate." She offered a tiny smile. Even she looked to struggle with that, but he appreciated the gesture. "If you _had_ run at her, I'm pretty sure she would've done the same thing. I just don't like seein' you so down in the dumps, especially when you're not to blame for _anything_ that's happened."

He merely sighed. He didn't believe her. It was all a case of recognising things sooner, but he'd been too slow for any of it. And he'd thought he was perceptive.

"We can't change fate," she said. "Ashlyn was more cunning than us all, and we're _thieves_. If you're going to blame yourself for what happened, then the rest of the guild might as well blame themselves too."

"Wait, no," he said, shaking his head. "You're not–"

"Roland, you try to do everything yourself," she intervened. "You _never_ ask for help if you think you can do it, but you never can, because all these issues are way bigger than just you."

"But you weren't there. It's not like you could've tried to save her."

"We stopped searchin'." She seemed apologetic for that. "We all gave up hope. And I'm sure you felt like that, too. But you kept goin' on and brought Carolin back to us, and that's commendable in itself. If you're blaming yourself, I'm blaming myself as well. No buts."

Roland didn't have any more to say. His sorrow was lifted for but a moment before it once again draped over him like a shadow.

He didn't believe her. It was him. He'd been involved in this.

"I just wanna know why she did it," Myrtle said. "There had to be a reason. Nobody kills without motive."

Maybe he could've found that out, had he not been so consumed by rage. He clenched Ashlyn's ring in his paw, fallen off in Carolin's struggle. Whatever her reason was, the fact she'd split Carolin's skull with her element was unforgivable.

He wished he could forget those glazed over eyes, remember the ones filled with kindness, happiness. They'd become a distant memory already.

Roland looked down upon the stick and mound of dirt one more time before sighing into his scarf. He brought a claw to his side and, with a swift tear, tore off one of his scales. It stung, but only for a moment.

Then, as Myrtle nodded and did the same, he flicked it onto the mound of dirt, paying his respects. Now a part of him would be with her as she began her ascent into the realm of the Ancestors and became one of them. He hoped she would like that. She'd need all the help she could get, flying there.

He wished Drevon had been here right now to pay his respects to his sister. But no, he'd let the purple dragon go out of his sheer hatred for Ashlyn's actions. He knew that had been a mistake.

Living life for a chance at vengeance wouldn't get him anywhere.

He wondered if Drevon had already become what he'd feared and loathed.

Myrtle put a wing on his back, a warm smile splitting her muzzle. She flinched a little when she did, wings still healing. "C'mon. Why don't we go out and buy some breakfast? I know just how much you love an apple pie."

He looked to his side, but all he had on him was his pocket watch and scarf. Not a single copper piece in sight.

"I don't have any money," he said. "And do you really think we should be buying? People know who I am."

She shook a little silk bag in his face, jingling with copper. "I do, and we'll head to the baker you like, the one that won't rip ya head off. It's on me."

How could he forget old Anderson? He felt dumb just for that. "I... don't want you to spend your money on me."

"Well, I do." She started pulling him along, his feet dragging across the ground. "Hurry up! We don't have all mornin'!"

* * *

Roland poked and prodded at the apple pie laying before him. Usually, he'd just scoff the thing, unable to resist the juicy centre, the crunch of flaky crust topped with whipped cream. He licked his claw clean of cream occasionally, but otherwise didn't care for sating his hunger.

Meanwhile, Myrtle was perhaps the messiest eater he'd ever seen, devouring her own pie. He'd never seen someone eat so rabidly before, save perhaps a wild animal. It made that pie look even more off-putting.

Roland slouched with his back against a bench, staring into the stone wall of the alleyway. He leaned his head back and let a sigh drift from his mouth into the city air. The scarf wrapped snugly around his neck quivered slightly in the soft breeze. Myrtle seemed to finally take notice of it, her eyes full of curiosity.

"That scarf really suits you, ya know." She shoved another mouthful of pie into her mouth. A grin curled her food-stuffed maw. "It makes you look a little... thicker, lanky."

He couldn't help but let a tiny smile dawn on his own muzzle. It was obvious she was trying to make him feel better. He didn't really, but he could make her think so. "At least I'm lean, fatty."

She pouted playfully at that one. "Bit rude callin' a girl fat, don't you think?"

"Maybe I wouldn't have to if you didn't eat like a piggle."

She laughed, clipping his shoulder with a wing. He could hear the smirk in her voice alone. "I'm thoroughly offended, no-breath. Where did you get the scarf, though?"

"It was supposed to be a birthday present from Seth," he explained. "But he sort of... left."

"Oh, yeah, I heard. I guess he wasn't lyin' to me after all..."

He lifted a brow. "You knew about him leaving? Why didn't you tell me?"

"No, no," she said. "He talked to me about what he was doin' all the time. How wrong it all felt, and how sorry he was, but that he just couldn't help it. I tried to tell him he could, but I began to think he just didn't care after all, especially after what happened in the vault..."

"Oh, I see..." His mind was brought back to thoughts of Drevon and where in Firemore he could possibly be. As expected as Myrtle's answer was, he still had to ask. "Have you seen Drevon at all, Myrtle?"

"Nope." She shrugged. "You told me he ran off."

"I didn't tell you I let him." More guilt sank to the bottom of his stomach at the words. He looked at the apple pie in his paw one more time before setting it down on the round table in front of him. Myrtle was staring at him in confusion. "I'm an idiot. I could've stopped him. I just felt so mad. But now he's gone, and I... I fear what he might end up doing, Myrtle. W-what if he..."

"I'm positive he'll end up comin' back to us," Myrtle said, finally finishing off her meal. "He's just angry right now, and... well, who wouldn't be?"

He exhaled. "I could've stopped him from running off still. It's all my fault he's out there, trying to find her."

"Again, you're bringing this all back to yourself," she said, scrunching the bag her paper bag her pie had come in up in her paws. He saw some frustration in the way she crushed it. "Stop it. If you'd tried to stop him, he probably would have just yelled at you, maybe hit you, and neither of you want that. He just needs some time to be by himself."

"Or, better yet, I shouldn't have been so blind and I could've helped him." Roland's eyes fell to the ground. "I'm sure being out here is just gonna drive him insane, Myrtle, and that's all on me. I could've stopped Ashlyn and we could've–"

"Ancestors, Roland, stop blamin' yourself!" she intervened, exasperated. "I thought you understood that when I told you an hour ago."

"I... didn't really listen, honestly."

She scowled. "It is _not_ your fault. Stop saying it is!"

"But it _is_!" He slammed his paw into the table. His apple pie wobbled. "I could've done so much to stop all this, but I can't even say I _tried_! I didn't know, and it was all so obvious! I'm an idiot..."

"I didn't know, either! Does that make me an idiot, Roland?!"

He opened his mouth, but she'd stopped him dead in his tracks with that one. "N-no, you..."

"Then you _aren't_!" she yelled back. He leaned his head back, her snout inches from his. She sort of reminded him of Ashlyn, just a couple days ago... "Stop this fuckin' bullshit!"

"B-but... you weren't there."

She slapped Roland right across the cheek. It stung bad, inwardly more so. He couldn't meet her gaze, but he could hear the anger in her heaving breaths. He placed a paw to his cheek, wetting his claw with a droplet of blood.

"We're goin' in fuckin' circles!" she shouted straight into his face. "Why the hell can't you just accept that it's not _your_ fault?! You _weren't_ the one that killed Carolin! You _weren't_ the one that made Drevon run away! That was Ashlyn! If you need to blame someone, blame HER, not _yourself_!"

Guilt overwhelmed every fragment of his mind. First he didn't do anything, and now he was making Myrtle mad.

He couldn't ever do anything right...

"Stop lookin' like that!" She gripped his chin and made him stare right into her eyes. "For fuck's sake, Roland, you're not makin' any sense!"

He breathed a shaky sigh. She _really_ wanted to believe he played no part in this. Roland just couldn't see why she thought that way. Why she was so angry with him. She should've been agreeing with him, not trying to prove him wrong.

His eyes were wet.

"I... I need to go," he said, turning only slightly before Myrtle snatched his shoulder and tugged his face back towards hers.

"I'm not letting you go anywhere until you _stop._ " Her tone was more menacing than Roland had ever heard it, but she seemed to calm down. "You go away and you're just gonna keep goin' on. If you ain't stoppin' this shit, then I'm blaming myself, too."

"No, Myrtle, please don't–"

"I will," she said. "This isn't helping _anything,_ Roland. You're being a dick to yourself for the sake of being a dick. If you should feel bad about anything, it's that. You're just going to ruin everyone's mood. Where's the cheerful dragon I know gone?"

He gulped down the ball gathering in his throat. His eyes watered and he sniffled, running a paw across through tears. He tried hard to keep them from slipping away.

This guilt was eating away at his very being. Its hunger would never be sated.

"I've let everybody down..." he said, voice weak. "I've destroyed a life... I don't deserve anyone."

Rather than being vexed by his comment, Myrtle sat down on the bench again, her wings drooping. Maybe she thought it was hopeless now. Maybe she thought the demons inside him were far too powerful for her words alone. "I... know what it's like to have self-destructive thoughts. Ya caught me in a terrible position just a while ago, and I said some things I didn't mean. I know I deserve you guys. I _know_ I deserve you as a friend. You've accepted me as such for a reason."

"You've done more good than any thief I know," she continued. "You deserve us. You're kind, you want everyone to be happy. You always try your best... and when it doesn't go in your favour, you end up like this. You beat yourself up, like you are now, and usually you didn't even do anything wrong."

Roland stared at the stone beneath his feet. He opened his mouth to say the same thing he'd said multiple times already, but Myrtle hushed him.

"Drevon needs the time alone," the green dragoness said again. Roland looked to her, fear in his eyes.

"But what if he hurts someone?"

Myrtle sighed. "I'm worried about that myself. But there's nothing you could've done in that situation, and we aren't gonna be able to find him now. After seein' Carolin like that, I don't think he would've been in any position to listen to even you. If you had a sister, don't ya think you'd be as angry as him, too?"

He thought about it for a second. She was right... He would've been just as mad.

He was _still_ mad. But his fury couldn't begin to match Drevon's.

"See? It'll... sort itself out, I think." Myrtle put the end of her wing on his shoulder, a little grin parting her lips. "None of us realised what Ashlyn was doing, either. She was way too smart for all of us, and we were all way too trusting. That's on _all_ of us, and I don't care if you don't think so, because it _is_. I guess how easy we've had it made us forget that we're not as invincible as we thought we were. Spyro's laws made it so easy for us kids to break the law. It's kind of ironic."

He met her gaze again, and her eyes held no more than real care for him. He really did have the greatest friends in the world, talking to him like this...

Maybe he even deserved them.

"Please don't be horrible to yourself," she pleaded. "It hurts to look at, Roly. You're a really good friend of mine, and... you're making me feel like shit, too. You ain't gonna make anyone feel happy with what you're doin'."

Roland closed his eyes, calming himself. He _was_ just making her feel bad, he realised. There was guilt for that. He couldn't keep on going on like he was if it was going to be at the expense of everyone around him.

He didn't think he'd ever be able to accept that Carolin was gone. But he could at the very least stop what he was doing and reevaluate his actions. In hindsight, what he'd said had been so incredibly stupid. He'd thought he had a few more brain cells than that.

"I'm sorry, Myrtle," he said after a minute, running a paw against his eyes. She shook her head.

"Don't be. It's okay." She draped a wing over his back. "I'm sorry for makin' you bleed."

He chuckled shortly. "I at least deserved that..."

"There we go!" A playful punch met his side. "It's good to have you back. Dunno where you went."

"Yeah, I dunno where Roland went, either." He looked to the table and saw his barely touched apple pie staring at him. He suddenly had a huge appetite, grasping its metal tray. He was also feeling generous. "Do you wanna share this with me?"

"Nah, I'm too fat already, like you said," she jested. Roland couldn't help but shake his head, biting into the pie.

"You're not... fat," he said in between a mouthful of food. "You're just bulky and strong. Bulkier than me, anyway."

"Was that an attempt to flirt with me?" she laughed. Roland just rolled his eyes. "It ain't workin'."

"Yeah, like I'm totally interested in _you_ , Myrtle," he scoffed. "I have a... far more _sophisticated_ taste."

"Pfft, like that Octavia you drool over? _Sophisticated_ taste?" His face heated at the comment. Drevon must have told her all about his little fantasy. "She's _low_ on my tier list..."

"You keep a list of women you like?"

"Oh, you'd be surprised."

Roland grinned, although it was sort of sheepish this time after merely hearing the name Octavia. "What's wrong with her?"

"She's so... bland." Myrtle shrugged. "Grey scales, real average body... As a model, she's pretty... meh. You probably only like her because she doesn't have an element, either."

True, she had no element, but that wasn't some sort of birth defect like his. No, apparently she'd completely destroyed her element, drained her body of all magical substance. It could happen to a dragon when they exerted absurd amounts of force. She'd be able to recover, but it would take decades before her element could be used again. Luckily enough, dragons lived for almost two hundred and fifty years. Roland fantasised over whatever feat she'd pulled off with such a strong release of magic.

"She's _relatable_ , yes." He finished his apple pie and cast the metallic tray aside. "She's hot, too, though."

"Eh..." Myrtle just grimaced slightly. "Not my type."

Roland shrugged and leaned back. They were quiet for a minute. He idly tapped the end of his tail against the oaken bench. A soft, relieved breath escaped his muzzle.

After what Myrtle had said, and this flurry of minor jokes, he felt so much better. He'd never forget Carolin, but he would try to forget the fact he'd blamed himself in the first place. All he could do was move on. Ashlyn was gone now, thank the Ancestors. He hoped he'd never see her again.

But he was still curious. He looked at the ring held in his paws. Why had she done what she did? Roland thought Ashlyn (if that was her real name) had loved it down in the sewers, and it definitely had seemed like she enjoyed spending time with him.

She must've just been an incredible actress. If he could say anything positive about her, it would be that she definitely belonged in a theatre with that kind of acting.

But why had she laid a claw on Carolin in the first place, and why go through all that trouble in the first place?

She'd even looked sad she'd done it... Just more acting, he guessed.

"Have you put any thought into why Ashlyn would do it?" he asked Myrtle. She tilted her head.

"There's no evidence for her motive," she growled softly. "I really don't like bein' stumped. Usually, I can work out why people do things, but this just feels... totally random. I dunno, maybe she was an assassin? That would bring up the question of why somebody would want Carolin dead, though."

A bulb flickered on inside Roland's head. He didn't like the idea, but it seemed the most likely answer. "Ashlyn talked to me about why blaming the purple dragon was shallow. Perhaps... somebody was targeting Drevon. Trying to make him mad so they could bring out his dark side."

"I think a lot of people have forgotten he exists," Myrtle said. "I never see anyone talk about where he might've went, or about him in any way at all. They did hold a festival for his birth fourteen years ago, but it's like it never happened now. I did see our resident ice guardian recently, mumblin' to himself about the purple dragon, but ain't nothin' else. Tallis is... an odd guy, anyway."

"What was he saying?" Roland pressed, the cogs turning in his mind.

"Nothing important. It wasn't him, if you think he might be the one, and I doubt it's anyone _but_ her."

The gears came to a grinding halt, and Roland was once again left with nothing except a vague, unlikely idea. Assassins were barely a thing now, regardless. Spyro had made it law that murder was exclusively punishable via death itself unless the suspect in question was young, in which case they were immediately believed to lack the motivation to kill on purpose, or charged with gaol time. Most who'd wanted to kill someone for whatever reason had stopped thinking those thoughts. Apparently, according to some history texts he'd read, it'd been so much easier to commit murder back in those days because they simply couldn't track them down. The punishment then was no more than gaol time as well.

They'd started looking at fur and scale samples and most recently elemental signatures, though, using magic and technology to figure out what and who they belonged to, which made the process easier. However, that didn't stop the task from being tedious and stressful.

Roland wished he could get those detectives to help him track down the blue murderer, but they wouldn't listen to the Red Rodent. She'd just end up getting away with it, and there was nothing he could do about it.

Unless Drevon found Ashlyn first. Then there was bound to be bloodshed.

He wondered if anyone had found the blood left on the pavement, or if it'd washed away, down in the gutter, never to be remembered.

"Welp," Myrtle jumped off the seat, bending and stretching her limbs like a feline. She purred contentedly. Even Roland could feel the satisfying pop of her bones after sitting on the bench. It wasn't a seat made for dragons. His position looked especially weird, sitting on a little bit of his tail. Unfortunately, the plank was too thin to sit atop normally. "I think we should get going. Do you wanna head out tonight and go after one of those houses we have marked? You can choose."

"Sounds good to me. I'd like that."

It'd been too long since he'd gone on one of those house burglaries. He enjoyed them, the thrill, the danger. There was never a moment too boring. They never stole _much_ , but they always grabbed the most valuable object. And the one Roland had in mind right now held an expensive family heirloom, passed down by royalty long gone. It would be worth vast amounts of copper. They'd just need to find a fence to purchase it from them, so they could put it up on illegal markets.

He jumped off the seat, a new spring in his step. It was the first time he'd felt happy in quite a while. Not just passing joy, but happiness that remained. It was refreshing, to say the least.

He hoped it would keep up.

"Alright," Myrtle said, her smile unwavering. "Let's go h–"

A crack, like thunder on a doorstep, snapped her happiness in half, and the pair of dragons jumped. A splitting ache rushed through his head, then disappeared as quickly as it came. But the skies were clear. There was no storm.

That was an explosion.

It was close, perhaps only a few streets away. Roland stared from around the corner they were hiding in. Everyone outside had stopped to peer in the direction of noise, and people on their way to their jobs in the nearby factories dropped their masks.

"The fuck was that?" Myrtle spared him a wary glance. His ears rung, a triangle hit constantly inside his skull.

"It sounded like someone let a bomb go off..." Roland studied the direction it came from. Just as suddenly, another thunderous detonation went off in his ear-holes, far louder this time. Myrtle rushed out of the alleyway, uncaring for whether anyone she'd thieved from recognised her. He did hear a few gasps as he made his entrance, but most were focused on the bang.

Roland's attention was grasped and yanked by smoke billowing into the sky, a dense cloud of deep, dark purple fumes. When another explosion came, he could see the flames erupt over the top of several houses. He jumped back in fright when people started screaming.

He felt nauseous, a knot tying his stomach. Unnatural magic permeated the air, so much that he could taste it when he opened his mouth. It was indescribable on his tongue. It felt powerful, yet horrid.

There was a glow above the houses, not the orange of the building ablaze, but a deep violet, jagged and snatching. It seemed to claw through the air, fogging it with purple.

Myrtle was looking at it, too, realisation having dawned on her face. If anything, Roland hadn't expected this to happen so quickly. He didn't know what to think, otherwise.

Except that Drevon was over there, abusing the terrible power within him.

"W-we need to get over there," he said, above the voices raising around him.

"We do... but he's mad. I dunno if it's best we interfere, Roland. He could very easily kill us..."

He shook his head and started running towards the destruction. Myrtle followed, although hesitantly. She only wanted to protect him and herself, but Drevon would wreak havoc if they didn't do anything. He expected the guards on their way to be aggressive with the purple dragon, and that wouldn't end well for them or Drevon.

"Drevon's over there and I'm not letting him get away. If I could stop him from doing harm last time, I can do it again."

Myrtle lowered her gaze, then stared forward with determination. Roland knew he was right. He just needed to show his face and talk the dragon out of doing anything rash in his violent search for Ashlyn.

Some of the dragons left behind strode towards the cacophony of noise with him, but there were none as fast as him. Rounding the next corner, Roland saw the purple dragon and his handiwork.

Black tendrils rippled through the ground, smokey and unnatural, ripping the pavement asunder. Fire tore through the mansion he'd targeted. Roland had to stop for a second and realise just what Drevon was doing. Instantly, it seemed a terrible idea to rush in and grab his attention.

He remembered shortly that the house he was destroying was the building they'd tried to rob a while ago. The home Ashlyn had run off in...

The home he assumed she lived in now.

Was she already dead?

A concentrated beam of dark aether exploded from Drevon's maw, splitting the mansion and several houses behind it in half. Guards had already tried to intervene at this point, sticking spears and E.F.'s into the air. They yelled and yelled to the dragon, but their cries produced no response.

There were crowds of people, silenced by the dragon unleashing the full extent of his power upon the mansion. There was a murmur Roland could barely hear going around, of how they'd forgotten the purple dragon existed in their city, and how they remembered now the festival fourteen years ago. Nobody seemed to know what to do or say other than that. Fear had washed over them all, like waves on a beach.

Only when one guard finally loosed a shot did Drevon pay them any attention. Explosive fire burst from the barrel of the rifle, striking Drevon's skull. Normally, a shot so close would instantly kill a dragon.

Drevon was no ordinary dragon. He hadn't seemed interested at all in the people, just the building he'd destroyed. He'd been content with letting them watch, but now he stopped firing wildly upon the house and turned, so, so slowly.

Roland feared the glowing white eyes he stared down at those guards with, the cloudy black gas that followed him. The cheetah who'd done it lowered his weapon, shivering in his armour. Drevon alighted on the pavement crackling with black energy.

He snatched the cheetah's neck in his paw and blasted back into the sky in what was only a moment. The cheetah's helmet was knocked flying across the pavement, until it landed right at the front of the crowd. Roland looked to Myrtle before beginning to push his way through the people gasping at the display in front of them.

He looked up as he shoved past them. The guards didn't fire another shot, worried their partner would be killed in the firing. And considering the shot had only slightly hurt the purple dragon, they probably knew it was no use.

Drevon held that neck and squeezed tightly. The cheetah struggled in his grip, just like Seth had.

Roland tried so hard to get to the front of the crowd, but nobody moved. They'd rather watch this cheetah die in front of them.

Roland couldn't save him...

"No, Dre–" he tried to scream, but an audible crunch stopped him in his tracks.

Before he'd pushed past half the people, or even had the thought of flying over them all, the cheetah had stopped moving. But Drevon didn't stop there. He lifted the cheetah high into the air, as if he weighed no more than a feather, then slung his corpse into the pavement. Bones snapped, and people started screaming when Drevon slammed his body into another guard.

That was when the guards chose to shoot. But it was all in vain.

Drevon was too fast, too powerful, and their aim was off. He took a grown dragon in his paw and ravaged their throat through the thick plate mail. His entire leg went through the heart of a mole. He took the firearm of one cheetah and used it against him, blasting a crevice into his skull.

The people turned, panicked, shoving past Roland and Myrtle. The two dragons stood still, in utter shock. When Drevon was done with the guards, he turned on the people.

Roland didn't know who this dragon was.

This wasn't Drevon.

Drevon would never do this...

He opened his maw wide. Roland could see the dark aether growing in the back of his throat.

He shook his head and screamed to Myrtle.

"Get out of the way!"

He shoved her with all his body, landing right behind a carriage. It was of no use.

Roland's back burned, his body tumbling hard against the stone. Splinters needled blackened flesh. He fell to his stomach when his body hit a crumbling building behind him. The nightmare Drevon wrought upon the people of Firemore fell to deaf ears.

Nothing existed for a moment, but agony woke him from his unconscious state. He opened his mouth to cry in pain, but he was voiceless. Half of his body felt like it was on fire, the other oozed with warm blood. His wings were crushed, and he could swear he felt their bones protruding from places they shouldn't have. The entire membrane had snapped.

Roland took a single step, but felt groggy. His vision swam with a purple fog, waving aggressively from side to side. He couldn't see Drevon anywhere. He fell with a painful thud onto a sticky lump in front of him.

He looked down at his paws, washed in a deep red, and then further at the speckled green and black below him. Then he ripped his paws away from it, realising he was atop an unconscious, bloodied Myrtle.

Roland rubbed his eyes, trying to make sense of his surroundings, and ended up painting his face with her blood. He could barely feel anything but the pain rocketing through his body and his stomach churning at the feel of charred flesh.

He retched and fluids rose in his throat, but he managed to swallow it down. He started shaking Myrtle, who he couldn't see moving, breathing.

"M-Myr..." He tried to say her name, but his words were barely a croak. "Myrtle..."

He grunted in pain, his stomach clenching in response. A paw grasped over his gut, he realised he was bleeding profusely from wounds littering his body. Panic flowed through his veins, his mind alive like wildfire.

He desperately needed spirit gems, else he would die for trying to stop his best friend. His vision was weakening. His chest heaved with adrenaline.

Roland rushed as fast as he could to the wreckage of the trading carriage, crying every step of the way. He wasn't within sight of Drevon – at least, he thought he wasn't. He dug through piles of burning wood, searing his paws with each he threw away.

It didn't seem like there was anything. Everything had been smashed in Drevon's fury. Only wood, and a few odd bits of ashy clothing.

His grip wrapped around something sharp and round, and he sliced his paw open on it, only for the damage to heal in seconds. He felt as if his entire body was burning, now climbing atop the blazing wood to get a greater look. The red glow in his paw was reassuring, as was the light they cast across the wood.

He struggled to stand, but he was able to grab many, hopping off the trading carriage, smashing a few against the ground as he neared Myrtle again. A few measly spirit gems weren't enough to heal every injury he'd sustained – spirit gems would only go so far until he reached his limit – but his vision returning was a good sign he wasn't going to bleed out anymore. Sure enough, as bloody as his wounds were, no more dripped from his stomach. He was shaken, eyes heavy with exhaustion from blood loss, but he could move fine enough.

The screams had stopped by the time he could hear again. Their ashen forms were scattered across the street. The purple mist was thick now, to the point where he couldn't see Drevon and only two luminous whites eyes floating in the sky, staring into the destruction he'd wrought. The condensed magic in the air was enough to choke on.

He threw the gems onto the ground, next to Myrtle, who still wouldn't wake up. At least he could see her breathing now. They were swallowed by the dragoness' scales, and her wounds healed slightly. The crimson pool beneath her was terrifying, but it no longer grew larger. He hoped she would be okay. Shaking her again did nothing. He smashed the rest of the gems near them both, just in case it would help.

Determination flared in his golden eyes. Whether Myrtle was there or not, he had to confront Drevon. It was the only way.

He turned to move forward but was halted by a brown dragon running past him, disappearing into the purple mist. He almost fell as they pushed through everything in their way, the bodies and the crumbling street. He only had to wonder who for a second.

 _Seth_.

He followed the brown dragon as quickly as his red feet would take him, without injuring his body more, over the rubble and the sea of ashy corpses. He could just barely tolerate his wings, bent as they were.

"Seth, wait!" His voice was too hoarse to hear, and Seth only kept running. That, or the brown dragon was ignoring him. For what? Roland couldn't tell.

The red dragon looked into the sky. A vaporous black cloud swallowed Drevon's form whole. Roland could feel his entire body shivering. Strange, transparent waves warped his figure, twisting the very reality he stood in. It might've only been his eyes, but he saw everything stretching towards the purple dragon, even the inflexible stone of the spires in the fogged distance.

Seth ground to a halt right in front of the purple dragon, and Roland reached him moments later. Drevon didn't spare a glance for either of them, too focused on the magic he conjured. His dark wings were coiled tightly around his figure, yet he levitated without need of them. Seth looked up and yelled his name.

"Drevon!"

The purple dragon looked down and faltered at the sight of the brown dragon. His wings fell limp. The black gaseous vapour dissolved.

He slowly descended. Seth was waiting in stunned silence, as if he was expecting to be murdered on the spot. Roland couldn't tell what his intentions were at all. Why would he, of all people, come running back? The purple dragon was perhaps his worst fear.

"This is about me, isn't it?" the brown dragon said, voice quivering. He was confronting his fears. Roland just looked at him in shock. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done what I did. It was stupid of me for being afraid of you."

Roland tried to stop him, hissing his name, but Seth only looked back and shoved him away. "Leave this to me, Roland. This is my battle."

Roland shook his head. "N-no, Seth, you don't under–"

Drevon landed, silencing the red dragon. He stared into Seth's eyes. Roland could finally detect emotion within them.

It was almost... apologetic, with the way he stared into Seth.

The purple of his eyes soon returned. Roland couldn't believe it.

"L-look, I... I did some terrible things," Seth said, voice small. "I almost killed your sister. That'd be why you're angry, right?"

Drevon didn't say a word, only stared into his eyes.

"I c-can't take back what I did." Seth sighed. "I can try to make it right, though. Please accept. I want to start again."

He remained voiceless.

Seth teared up. "Please..."

The purple dragon didn't utter a word. Either he didn't know what to say, or he didn't want to say anything.

Now that Roland looked at him, Drevon hadn't really looked like he was listening. His eyes were judgemental, deeming Seth worthy.

He didn't answer for a long time. Seth seemed almost mad his response hadn't come.

"Are you going to answer me?" Seth asked. Roland clenched his teeth. "Did you even _listen_?"

Drevon licked his maw and breathed a silent sigh.

"You don't matter."

Seth took a few steps back, Drevon's warped tone scaring him off. The smoky vapour coiled around the purple dragon's form again. The violet iris vanished. His milky eyes stared blades into the brown dragon.

"You hurt me, Seth!" Drevon shouted, walking towards the brown dragon. Roland didn't even recognise his voice. It was like he was listening to a stranger, a monster even. He walked backwards with Seth as Drevon approached them. "You tortured me! You hurt my sister! And now she's dead. Part of that's on _you._ "

The tendrils gripping the stone phased through the ground, standing erect. They made a wall that Seth backed into. Roland didn't know what to say or do.

This wasn't his friend... It wasn't.

"D-Drevon," Roland said. "Please stop. You–"

Drevon shoved him out of the way. It didn't hurt him much, not physically. That push was just hope-consuming.

He watched from the ground as Drevon stormed towards Seth, violent eyes staring into Seth's brown. He stood inches away from him. Drevon was finally standing up...

But Roland didn't want this.

"I don't accept your apology," Drevon said. "How could I?"

Drevon wouldn't want this. Roland knew that. It wasn't him pulling the strings anymore. Surely not... This magic was just affecting his mind.

"Drevon, I–" Seth tried to speak, but Drevon cut him off when he took hold of the brown dragon's one remaining horn.

"Shut up."

Roland couldn't even gasp before Drevon ripped the other horn straight from its origin. Seth screamed in torment, blood gushing from his skull. He sunk to his knees and tried to grasp at what wasn't there.

Roland almost jumped over to stop Drevon from going further. Yet he was far too late. Drevon twisted the horn in his paw around so that sharp end faced Seth. He thrust it forward, penetrating the thin scales covering Seth's heart.

Seth stopped moving, stopped screaming. He fell to the ground with a dull thud.

Roland got to his feet. Seth lay unmoving. Life snapped in an instant. He looked to Drevon, his eyes shifting between the purple dragon and the brown figure lying dead on the stone.

Drevon had no remorse. He threw the blood-stained horn to the ground and crushed it under his foot. He moved away from the body and to the middle of the street, eyes closed. Roland rushed over to Seth.

His muzzle was drenched with blood. He would've died from his horn being torn out, but Drevon hadn't seen that as enough for his brown antagonist.

Memories flooded Roland's mind, old, of the times he and Seth shared alone. He didn't cry. He couldn't after what Seth had done to them all.

But this was undeserved.

That _wasn't_ Drevon...

It wasn't...

The smoky gas coiled around Drevon's form once again. There were guards rushing to the scene, but they were far too late.

"If I can't find you, Ashlyn," Drevon spoke. "I'll just have to kill all of you to do it."

The dragon's body glowed a violet hue. His eyes shined brighter than ever before. That magic started warping everything around it once again.

"Drevon!" Roland yelled into the sky. He never answered. "DREVON!"

He felt sick to the stomach. His mind swam. The very world around him started to coil, wrap in on itself. Roland didn't know where he was standing anymore. An orange glow consumed his vision.

" _Drevon_!"

And all fell silent.


	12. Calamity

Calamity

Roland cracked his eyes open. His whole being felt heavy. It all hurt so much... A water droplet landed on the centre of his forehead. The skies were starless, black. He could barely see a thing.

Where were the lights, the lamps that marked the way down Firemore?

Where was _everything_?

His mind was a mess, his head throbbing. He inhaled ash-laden air and spluttered painfully into his scarf. His vision eventually came to, though it felt like an open flame was being held to his eyes.

He struggled to get up, claws clumsily scraping against shattered stone. His feet could hardly tolerate the weight. His head hung low of its own accord.

His mind flared, more painfully than before. Fire. All he could see was fire. Screams. _Screaming_. It never ended, a cacophony of horror.

His visions... They were true?

He fell to his knees, landing in a puddle of rainwater. His body shivered. He felt so warm. Why was he shivering?

Roland lifted his head. Firemore, for the first time in aeons, was dark. Only the faint outline of spires lay in the distance. Everything smelt of wood burning.

The spires weren't intact, either. They were but a weak representation of the proud spires the city once held, broken beyond repair.

He placed a paw on a ruined stone brick next to him, using it to heave himself upright. He managed to get halfway there before the flames invaded his mind again.

Everything was burning. He felt like _he_ was burning.

A black cloud. Whites staring into his eyes.

Darkness.

He held onto that rock for support, determined to keep his mind from subjecting him to the pavement. Whatever muscles he had spasmed, shaking like weeds to a gale. He swayed from side to side. He could barely breathe.

It pained him. He barely had the willpower when he did try. It would've felt better to stop and die, allow his body to be consumed by the darkness and forgotten forever. But he pushed on.

Agony threatened to split his composure in two. His eyes misted over. Standing was just too much when he finally achieved it. He couldn't. He _couldn't_...

"N-no..." he said, voice hoarse. "I need to. I... am not dying."

He could see nothing, but felt everything spinning. "I..."

He felt ill. He leaned over, choking on the fluids trying to escape his throat. It burned, an acid to his gullet. He hacked into the stone below him until it came out in a disgusting heap.

Roland dropped to his rear, blankly staring into the substance spreading across the ground. He eventually looked up, though the negligible action of lifting his head hurt more than anything he'd ever experienced.

He could see it all so much better now. Firemore smouldered, suffocated of life. The stone was shattered, houses decimated. Odd orange crystals surrounded his body. He couldn't tell what they were or where they'd come from. They looked as though they'd broken, however.

His chest was very wet, too...

He didn't pay those things much mind. Perhaps the crystals had fallen out of someone's pockets, and it was probably the slight drizzle that wet his chest.

He noticed a lamp post near him, bent jaggedly in several places, flickering with dying light, an iron bench beside it. He tried his best to walk over, limping the whole way, letting out a cry with each pained step.

He recognised it as that same bench he'd sat on earlier, when he'd stopped chasing Carolin. Ashlyn's house must've been near it. He struggled atop the seat and leaned back into it, breath heaving.

He looked up a few moments later.

What had happened?

He tried to recollect the events in his mind. He saw a bright purple light, than darkness hit him like a bullet.

He didn't want to think it, but...

Had Drevon really destroyed it all?

He sniffed weakly at the air. That scent of magic, though faint, still lingered, though breathing it in only made him cough more from the ashes flitting through the air like dry leaves. He looked to the ground, his tail blade smacking something dry and hollow.

He reached down, nearly falling off the seat, to pick it up. It was unusually heavy, only because of his weakness. Blackened like the city of Firemore. It was difficult to tell what the dilapidated object was.

Then he realised it was a skull, the head of one of his kind. He shivered before dropping it to the ground. It turned to dust as it struck the pavement.

He look down at his own paws. He couldn't even tell he was himself, even in the flickering light. His scales were as black as charcoal, his miraculously unharmed scarf sooty. He even still had his pocket watch around his neck.

He didn't even realise it before, but Ashlyn's ring was clasped tightly in his paw. He'd protected its golden gleam, its sapphire beauty.

If only Ashlyn's heart was as beautiful as the ring. She'd caused this. She'd destroyed everything.

She'd killed everyone he loved.

He almost threw it away, but something stopped him. A strange desire even he couldn't explain. It wasn't the urge to avenge those he'd lost. He wasn't Drevon.

Was Myrtle gone? His only friend left? Was she...

"M-Myrtle?" he yelled with as much effort as he could. It was barely louder than a whisper. "A-are you there?"

No answer. He tried again, and yet his only response was the wind.

He couldn't see her anywhere. She was gone...

Roland wanted this to be a dream. He wanted to go back to his bed, and pretend the hell wrought upon his hometown wasn't real.

He hunched over, shaking. He wouldn't have cared if there had been anyone still watching. He sobbed, loudly, ungracefully, into the night sky.

Why was he still alive? Why didn't he die like everyone else?

At least then he could've been happy, drifting into the realm of the Ancestors.

A thought occurred to him. It was dark, and passed quickly. He had a blade, even if it was blunted by wear. Enough slashing, and...

"No!" he yelled to himself. "I'm not ending it here. M-Myrtle would want me to keep going."

He heard movement ahead of him and he looked up with teary eyes. A pile of debris in front of him quivered. Looking closer, he saw the form of a grown dragon. Even from this distance, Roland could see blood trickling from fatal wounds to his body.

"O-over there," the dragon smeared with ash said. "You. R-Red Rodent. Come... _here_."

He pointed to himself. The stranger nodded his head. Hesitantly, he climbed off the seat, swallowing the gathering ball in his throat.

He stopped by the stranger's face, eyeing him warily, as if he would jump out of the stone and murder him. He was far luckier than this dragon, who couldn't move a muscle. Blood flowed around him, coursing through gaps in the stone. A burnt, scarred satchel hung around his neck. It looked empty.

"My b-body is broken," he said. "I'm as good as dead."

"W-what do you want?" Roland asked, voice shaking. The dragon groaned, a mixture of annoyance and agony in his voice.

"Isn't it obvious?"

Roland shook his head, as did the dragon.

"It's okay... I... I-I shouldn't have expected you to know, anyway. Y-you're only a kid."

Roland sat down, paws shuffling awkwardly along the stone. His claws marked the ground with soot. "Tell me," he said, with a little more defiance in his voice. The dragon breathed in and spluttered on the ash and his injuries.

"I want you to kill me, Red Rodent."

Roland didn't move. His eyes never left that dragon's form. He didn't want to believe what he'd just heard.

"You... w-what?"

"You're so young... I thought you were older." The stranger almost laughed, but it came out as more of a splutter. Blood stained his mouth. "I'm not getting out of this mess. I'm on death's door. Spirit gems aren't gonna help anymore. I want you to end me."

Roland started shaking his head. "N-no, I can't, I... There's another way, surely."

Somehow, the dragon smiled. "Tell me your name, kid. Your real name."

On instinct, Roland almost denied the question, but a dying dragon wouldn't be there to tell anyone.

Everyone was dead now...

"R-Roland," he said. "M-my name's Roland Rivera."

"My name is Garv, Roland... I-I can't reach my neck with my tail blade or my claws. I'm gonna need you to do the honours."

Roland couldn't. He wouldn't ever. "No, I–"

"Please, Roland." Garv was reduced to begging. "You'd be... be doing me a s-service. This position... fucking hurts."

"I can find spirit gems, I c-can–"

"I can't even feel my lightning anymore," he said. "Th-they wouldn't work. I-I'm too weak for even them."

Tears streamed down Roland's face. He didn't know what to say anymore. He wanted to turn tail and run, but this dragon's begging gaze had his feet locked in place.

"L-listen." The stranger's voice was soft. Kind. Roland knelt down low. "I'll help you through everything. Just listen and do what I say, and I promise it'll only hurt for a few seconds. You would be doing me the biggest favour, Roland. I... want to see my kids again. I would be forever thankful."

Roland was reluctant, but nodded slowly a few seconds later.

"People see us as strong because we're huge, but... we're not very tough in reality," he started. "Our scales are thin and easily cut open. It's why we wear armour into battle. O-our weakest point is our neck. I-it's very flimsy. You've probably felt it before, f-felt how... _easily_ it could be sliced open. I want you to grab my neck, Roland. Softly, now."

Roland raised a shaking paw. Garv's kind voice guided his paw to his throat. Roland's heart hammered in his chest.

"You're doing well," Garv said. "Now–"

"I don't _want_ to!" Roland exclaimed, voice shaking. "I-I..."

"Listen to me!" he yelled back, hacking painfully after. "I _need_ you to do this. I'm very slowly bleeding out, but this hurts, Roland. It... _really_ hurts."

Roland started shaking his head again, letting go of the dragon. "N-no, I..."

" _Please_." Roland knew there was no better option for him. But he couldn't. He couldn't take a life.

Garv stared into his eyes, his yearn for death frightening.

"You can't hesitate to kill," he said. "Th-these walls were so safe, b-but... the world out there is dangerous. Very, v-very dangerous. You don't want t-to find yourself in a position where you have to take a life, but you _have to_ if it comes to it. Do not hesitate."

Garv sighed. "Please," he continued. "I need this."

Roland cried into his scarf more, reaching out once again. His entire body was shaking, but he had hold of Garv's neck.

He really did want this.

He couldn't just ignore this dragon's dying wish, in spite of how much his brain told him to sprint far away, on the legs that could barely carry him. If there was one thing Roland felt he could do before he collapsed from exhaustion, it was make one last person happy.

"Good," Garv coughed out. "Now, you see that claw there? On your index toe?"

Roland did see it. It was the sharpest of them all, the longest as well. It was the one he once used for weaving along a page, for drawing the words of his imagination. He couldn't begin to imagine drawing anything else with it

"Y-yes," he responded. He knew what was coming next, and he hated it.

"S-stay with me, Roland," Garv said. "Breathe for a moment. Try to avoid the ash."

He did as he was told, closing his eyes. In. Out. It would be quick. He'd be doing this dragon a service.

He would end that suffering.

"Good job," Garv praised. His voice remained calm and kind. He knew just how difficult this was. Roland looked into the dragon's tired green eyes. "Th-this is the hard part. It... w-won't hurt for long, I promise. I need you to stab me in the neck and make a swift incision all the way to the right. Can you do that?"

Roland swallowed the fear once again. "...Yes."

"Okay. _Do it_. That's it. Don't even think about it. Close your eyes. It's nothing, Roland. My neck is nothing to you."

Roland took a few seconds before he did as he was told. Darkness met his eyes once again. He breathed long, uneven breaths.

"It's like drawing a line. It's that easy."

He readied the claw, holding it inches from Garv's neck. His heart drummed against his chest. He took in a deep breath.

Just a line. Just a simple _line._

A snap of movement. He felt sick again, wet blood drenching his paw. Without another moment of hesitation, his claw tore the throat.

Garv tried to gasp, an instinctual response. Crimson stained Firemore. His body fell limp.

"Th-th-thank... y-you, R-Rol..."

His head fell to the ground with a dull thump. His eyes were still closing by the time he died. He only made it halfway. Roland couldn't help but stare into those half-closed, dead eyes.

He fell to the ground, his little heart shattered. He tried his best to hold it all in, but his crying only came out in waves.

He'd had the power to bring a life to an end once. He never wanted that power again.

" _Do not hesitate."_

* * *

Roland didn't know where to go. Everything was obscured by ash and smoke, but he could make it out of the city easily enough. That wasn't the issue.

Where _would_ he go, now that everything had been destroyed?

He didn't even want to move, knowing he'd taken a life. But he had come to the conclusion that he couldn't fret over what he'd done. There were more important things at paw. He couldn't just worry over that. He'd done Garv a favour.

He felt numb.

He'd travelled to the sewer entrance through the destroyed wall, but the pipe had been crushed. Even the mole holes led nowhere. He wanted to go back and see if his room was still intact, or if anyone had survived, but there was no way through and his group had never explored all of the sewers. Any entrance he knew of was sealed away.

Later, he tried to look for any sign of Myrtle, but she was nowhere to be found. Probably incinerated by the fire, just like the rest of them. His heart sank, but he had a small hope she was still out there. Nobody had been completely destroyed by the fire, and he couldn't find anyone that reminded him of Myrtle in the slightest.

Plus, Garv had lived, if not for long. Others probably had, too.

He felt like he'd been sitting on the iron bench for hours now, Garv's satchel hanging limp at his side, for he hadn't needed it anymore. He was hurt, thirsty, hungry, sick. A part of him kept telling him to curl up and go to sleep for the rest of eternity, but he wouldn't. His will to live knew no bounds.

He was just stuck. Without a direction. Without purpose.

It was a few minutes later when he decided to go questing for spirit gems. It was the main priority. They'd heal his wounds to a dull ache and restore some of his energy. Although his pain had already been subdued by time, his aching joints and broken wings weren't pleasant to walk around with. He could barely move the upper part of his body.

Roland wouldn't have been surprised if spirit gems didn't exist here anymore, but he had nothing better to do. He turned down the twisting streets of Firemore, trudging through seas of ruined stone and black, skeletal corpses. He never grew used to the crunch of bones beneath his feet. He tried his best to avoid them, yet couldn't help stepping on another skull every once in a while.

He was looking for a drop of colour, but Firemore was painted black and grey. After dusting some of the soot and ash off his body, he became a red speck amongst the black, the final drop of lifeblood. Even things he would've expected to have colour – torn banners, ripped fabric hanging from stalls – were devoid of colour and life.

Everything was just... dead.

"Yeah, that's... obvious, Roland." He was talking to himself, more than he usually did. He had no one left. He'd seen a few other people, alive, but they were just barely holding on. He didn't recognise them as one of his own, and so he tried his best to avoid them. Their forms were mangled. He swore he saw one with his limbs splayed everywhere. He didn't have the guts to approach them. He thought they would ask the same from him as Garv.

He was still shaking from that encounter, in spite of his attempts to make it seem negligible.

He searched and searched for spirit gems. He'd been through many districts of the city now, yet there was no sign of that red glow.

He felt so tired...

He bumped his head into a carriage. Awakened by the thud, he realised he'd come back around, all the way to Ashlyn's old home again. He sighed into the cart. He hadn't gotten anywhere...

Then a thought occurred to him.

"Wait, there were spirit gems inside, weren't there?" He felt strangely excited, and clambered on top of the cart. For the most part, it had survived the blast, and he didn't know how, despite being this close to it. How _had_ he survived, in spite of his distance?

All these other people should've lived, but him...

He didn't fret over it for now. He dug through the wood, excited by the prospect of finally being able to stand without pain.

When he saw that familiar red glow, he pumped a paw in victory, spouting a silent, "Yes..."

He grasped at one and felt that well-known energy radiating from within its tiny walls. It crunched in his paws. Through his veins a rejuvenating wave flowed. His wings cracked and quivered. Somehow, it wasn't painful. Only satisfying.

"Ouch," he exclaimed as he flapped his wings. A spike of pain shot through them. At least he could move them now, but they'd probably still need time to heal. He grabbed at another spirit gem and crushed it without hesitation. Then he grabbed another.

He stopped himself before he grabbed at a fourth. Using too many wouldn't do him any good. Instead, he took whatever was left, two smaller, weak gemstones, and shoved them deep into Garv's satchel, along with his pocket watch.

He squinted at Ashlyn's ring still enclosed within his paw, his deep reflection in the sapphire staring back at him. It was the first time he'd gotten a look at his face. Even if he couldn't see himself clearly, he _could_ see just how much of a mess he was.

His eyes were shot with red and a deep scar carved his right eye in two, dry with his blood. It sort of reminded him of the one Myrtle had, though hers was a horizontal slash across both of her eye of which he didn't know the story of. He had a missing fang or two, and his nose had clearly been bleeding. He hadn't noticed it all before, his focus on the pain coursing through his entire being. Several scales were lined with cracks. His horns were a little chipped, but surprisingly, they were the most intact part of his skull.

He threw the ring in with the rest of the stuff, forgetting about it, and did the buckles on the leather satchel up again. He'd never really cared much for his appearance anyway. He wasn't exactly a looker, and he knew that. Just his attenuated figure would drive off anyone. At least he still had Seth's scarf. He quite liked how it looked on him.

He shook his head. He knew now wasn't the time to think such thoughts. There were far better things to put his mind on.

Like where he was supposed to be going.

He looked beside him, to the house – or what was left of it – that Ashlyn had probably lived in. His thoughts drew him there. Slowly, hesitantly, he stepped towards the incinerated mansion.

It was the most damaged building on the street. One wall was left standing and there were a few fragments of the building still laying about. The flooring had burnt away. Nothing of note was left, except for a few singed papers trembling in the breeze. He decided to look at them.

He tripped a few times on stray boards littering the ground before reaching them. He took one in his paws, squinting at it. It was barely recognisable. Anything that'd been written or drawn on it had melted away in the blast, and now the ink mushed the page. He threw the wet paper away, picking up another. Same story.

The third he picked up was different, though. Despite a few burnt corners, it remained intact. A lucky survivor of the blast, just like him. It was a very familiar drawing, too.

Two dragons, staring into the night sky, next to each other. He wished he still had someone, like the dragons in the picture. It was... really well-drawn.

He assumed it was by Ashlyn. She must've been a very skilled artist. With the amount of time she had spent drawing the same image, she must've thought this was very important. He thought he recognised her in the picture, the smaller of the dragons. The sleek horns, the thin build, even the shape of the tail blade before it'd been destroyed beneath the desk, resembled her to a T, only she was smaller than she was now.

He wanted to keep it, but he didn't know why, other than that it was a good picture. A memento of what happened in Firemore, he guessed. At least she'd done something good with her life, even if it meant nothing in the end. He folded it a few times and picked away the burnt spots before keeping it inside his satchel.

Something shifted then. Floorboards on the ground. He couldn't tell where the noise was coming from, but it was very close to him.

"Hello?" he said. "Is anyone there?"

A voice laughed quietly. "Yes, Roland. Hello."

He turned around. A large blue dragon towered over him. Roland didn't recognise him, but somehow he knew his true name.

"You look confused. It's almost like you don't remember who I am."

"I... have no idea who you are," Roland responded. "H-how do you know my name?"

"You really don't remember?" he asked. "The night of that little heist you tried to perform right here, in my own house? You don't remember _me_?"

Roland's heart skipped a beat. He took a few steps back.

That dragon, the one who'd thrown Myrtle, tortured Drevon with fear...

"Ah, I see the realisation on your face now. You aren't as forgetful as I thought, then."

"N-no," he muttered, turning around. He lifted a leg to sprint away, far away, but he was tripped up by the tail of the older dragon. Roland felt his body leave the ground, his neck clutched in the blue dragon's paw.

The blue dragon laughed again. "I thought that explosion would've killed you, like everyone else. I guess you're luckier than I thought."

"L-let go!" He twisted his body back and forth, his throat snatched by the dragon.

"The rat's been caught," the blue dragon said, even going so far as to yawn. It really had been that easy. "Would you do the honours, Ashlyn?"

Roland stopped squirming, faltering. His eyes darted around the ruins until they met the figure of a blue dragoness pacing out from behind the shadows of a shattered wall.

She didn't look the least bit interested until her eyes met Roland's. She stopped and gaped. Roland did the same.

"Get over here, girl. Hurry up. Kill him."

Ashlyn didn't move an inch. She was shaking her head. How did she and the blue dragon survive?

"Ashlyn."

"N-n-no, dad, I–"

Ashlyn's father stamped over to her, paw suffocating the red dragon in his grip. Roland grasped at the blue dragon's paws to pull them away. His physical ineptitude made it impossible.

"I said _kill him,_ you stupid girl."

"No!" she shouted back. She shivered as if she were freezing. "Let him _go_!"

The blue dragon shook with rage, swiping his paw across Ashlyn's cheek. "You fucking listen to me! You _do not_ defy me!"

She clutched her bleeding cheek. Her legs buckled. "N-no..."

"Fine!" He stared Roland directly in the eye. "I'll do it myself!"

"NO!" Ashlyn leaped into the air. But she was too late to do anything about it. The blue dragon lifted Roland high into the air and threw him straight into the floorboards.

There was a crack, and Roland's world went dark.

* * *

The brush of leaves tickling Roland's facial scales woke him from his slumber. He groaned, and as if those spirit gems had been entirely worthless before, his entire body hurt, mostly his head, which throbbed uncomfortably. He sat up and put a paw against his forehead, groaning, avoiding low-hanging branches obscuring his view.

He looked ahead, and his first question was where in the Dragon Realms was he? Grass swished gently in the breeze, trees creaked against each other. The wind was an unsettling murmur. His back was to a log. It reminded him greatly of the woods near Firemore, but if it was, he had never been in this deep. He couldn't see the night sky through the dense canopy above. Only a star or two twinkled through the leaves.

Shrubs and bushes amongst the grass crinkled with movement. His groggy gaze met the shifting plants, a blue figure emerging from within them.

It took him a while to realise he was staring at Ashlyn.

"Y-you're finally awake," she whispered. "I–"

He was snapped out his exhaustion and backed swiftly away from the blue dragoness. Fear, hatred clouded his vision. Did she take him out here? What did she want with him?

Was she trying to kill him?

"S-stay away!" he shouted. "I'll–"

Ashlyn rushed up to him and put a shaking paw against his muzzle. "Roland, I'm trying to help you!" she hissed. "Be quiet!"

He didn't believe her. He couldn't, not after...

She was going to pump his head full of magic, wasn't she? He was going to die.

All of Firemore, gone. He'd believed he could get through it. But now...

He ripped her paw off his muzzle and stood, turning tail and trying to sprint away from her. Her claws, however, latched onto his tail and she dragged him back. His legs hurt so much... What had she done to him?!

"Roland, st–"

"Get away, you fucking monster!" he screamed. "Let me _go_!"

"ROLAND!" She didn't speak loudly, but her tone was forceful nonetheless. Even in total panic, her commanding nature ground his thoughts to a halt. "I am _not_ going to kill you! Be quiet! My dad is coming after us both, and if he finds us, you're as good as dead!"

"Y-you–" He didn't get a chance to let the words out; Ashlyn had him completely petrified.

"I-I will explain everything later..." she said. Even if she was assertive, her voice shook with apprehension. "Just... b-be quiet for now. I'm trying to help you, Roland."

Was she? Was that a lie?

He thought on it. He remembered her father throwing him to the ground, and not much else. Ashlyn had seemed pretty against the idea of respecting her father's wishes, though.

Hadn't she tried to jump after him?

"W-why..." he murmured, swallowing the lump in his throat. "Why are you helping me?"

"I will explain _later_ ," she repeated. " _P-please_ be quiet, Roland."

She sat beside him, about a metre away, but despite that distance, he could feel her shivering. She wasn't cold. An ice dragon wouldn't get cold, not in temperatures like this.

He was about to ask her another question, but decided against it. She _was_ trying to help him, he knew now. But he wanted to know why. Why had she killed Carolin? Why had she turned his best friend to corruption and destroyed everything he held dear?

Roland kept a very close eye on her. He couldn't ever trust anyone again. The more he looked at her, though, the more she seemed to shake...

The padding of heavy paws met his ears. It was far, but he heard branches crunch and leaves rattle as they were shoved apart. Her father was coming after him. He ducked and studied the area for a hiding place.

Ashlyn tucked herself away into a small hollow in the log behind them. He crawled into one of the many holes himself, just big enough for him. Ashlyn was visible inside, the entire tree carved out by what had probably been an animal.

His breath was warm against his paws, and it sounded so loud to him. He tried to calm himself, but the fear flowing through his veins blocked the way to silencing his voice. He glanced at Ashlyn beside him, and despite the darkness, he could see she was having the same exact issue.

Her father... Was he the one behind her actions?

Why did she want to get away from him?

A branch snapped, not far from the hollow log, and the moving stopped. Ashlyn placed a paw over her muzzle, and Roland followed her actions. It didn't help much. He tried to just hold it in.

"Come out, you stupid girl. I will find you again. You know I will. And if you don't come out right now, you know exactly what I'll do. Do you have any idea what Mum would say?"

He wasn't in a position to crawl out of the log and run deep into the forest, away from the words that made him shiver. Blue legs shifted past the log. He had to stop himself from gasping.

He put a paw over his muzzle, thinking even that would alert the dragon to his presence. Twigs cracked beneath the paws in front of him. They stopped, and Roland swallowed the saliva in his throat.

"You're here somewhere. I can hear you breathing, Ashlyn."

The paws walked away from Roland. Almost, he let out a breath of relief, but he was able to keep it in for fear the hunter would come back. He noticed they stopped again in front of Ashlyn. Legs bending, reaching down. Roland sank deeper into the hollow.

The movement was quicker than Roland could've expected. Claws like lightning snatched Ashlyn out of the log. She struggled in his grip, Roland having a clear view from the hollow. He couldn't see the face of the blue monster, but hers was visible, and the shock and fear sketched across her features shook him.

"All you needed to do was get rid of him," the stranger hissed. "We can't have any witnesses. The Guardians of Warfang don't need _you_ ruining their endeavours!"

"D-Dad!" she choked, her throat clasped in his paws. "L-let–"

"I think it's about time I taught you your place." He started moving again. Ashlyn had already stopped kicking, but she wasn't unconscious yet. Roland could see the dragon in full view now, his back to him. Roland's breath was caught in his throat.

" _Dad_!" she screamed. " _Stop_!"

"Shut your mouth, girl."

He pushed the blue dragoness into a tree. She tried to scramble away, but he was too strong. He lifted his fist high into the air, and struck her across the cheek. There was an audible thunk and she groaned in pain.

She didn't try to move anymore. She had already accepted her fate.

Roland shuddered, watching with terror. Another punch. Ashlyn bled from her nose. The black ring around her eye deepened. Another one. Her head swayed, eyes heavy. Roland cowered behind his cover.

"I've done so much for you!" the blue dragon yelled. "So _much_! And you can't even do one simple thing without _fucking everything else up_! He needed to die, but you let him get away! Why, Ashlyn?! Were you befriending them!?"

"D-D-Dad..." she tried to exclaim, tone weak. The blue dragon didn't even seem to care. He raised his fist again.

"We had a conversation. I told you _exactly_ what would happen if you didn't follow instructions. And you couldn't even follow them. You're as worthless as your mother."

"N-no, sh–"

"I told you to shut your mouth!" The blue dragon hit her again, yet this time it was an audible slap across the cheek. "Not only did you fail to kill him, you also ran away with him! Is he your new boyfriend? When I find him, I'm going to _gut him_ myself."

Roland curled into the tightest ball he could. He would be found. He would die. He knew he would. After the dragon was done with Ashlyn, he was next.

"You don't deserve another chance, Ashlyn."

Roland thought he could see Ashlyn staring at him. Her face was all bloody and her eyes were darkened by the bruises around them, but he could see those eyes staring fearfully back at him. His maw parted slightly.

"I'm going to hurt you. I'm going to teach you a lesson I should've long ago."

Ashlyn's eyes shot towards his. She knew exactly what he spoke of, Roland could tell. She backed further into the tree, cowering before the beast in front of her.

But Roland was done hiding. He needed that power to hurt. _One last time..._

He needed to do something. He couldn't just leave her like this. He couldn't watch him do this to her. Ashlyn had tried to save him in what had almost been his last moments, and he'd be damned if he didn't do anything to rescue her, even if it hurt him, even if it killed him.

That was what he thought would happen anyway. He had to give it a shot. None of this was her fault, he realised.

It _wasn't hers..._

He wouldn't give himself up, but he would go down fighting. He always would.

Roland sneaked out of the hollow, heart hammering against his rib cage. He licked his maw and drew what he thought would be his final breath. Ashlyn's eyes flicked to his and she shook her head. Her father didn't notice. Roland crouched into the grass, then leaped with all the might he had.

He flapped his wings twice, and with as fierce a bite as he could muster, latched onto the blue dragon's neck from behind. He didn't need any strength. His fangs did all the work.

Ashlyn's father flinched in pain, twisting his neck back with a roar. Roland despised the taste of dragon blood in his mouth, like drinking liquid iron without the heat. It dribbled down his chin, dripping into the grass. He heard Ashlyn's gasp between the panic, but what he'd been hoping for didn't happen. She didn't run, try to get away from the abuse her father inflicted upon her. She was too shocked by his actions.

It wasn't long before Roland was shaken off. The blue dragon clutched his neck with the talon upon his wing. He growled, staring back at Roland with malice. Even if the monster in front of him was of the ice element, the flames set in his crimson eyes seemed to speak otherwise.

"I already knew you were in there, Roland. I just wasn't expecting you to come out."

The blue dragon laughed despite the blood coursing down his neck, the pain flowing through him. Roland stepped back, legs quivering.

"You made a mistake."

A scream tore through the night sky, shaking the canopy. Twigs snapped as a gust of air pushed the three dragons into the ground. Roland barely managed to stay up; it as if a wind Guardian had summoned a hurricane. He looked above him to find none other than an animal staring at the blue dragon from above, beady yellow eyes set on him. Roland trembled at the ear-shattering screech, but Ashlyn's father shuddered in terror.

The ground seemed to shake as it landed, delivering yet another scream that forced the blue dragon to back off, into the forest, away from the younger dragons. Ashlyn covered her ear-holes with her paws, as did Roland.

"G-get away from me, beast!" he yelled. "G-get awa–"

The dreadwing roared, and the blue dragon turned and ran before Roland could blink, fear magic jolting through his system. The red dragon looked to the empty space he'd left behind, and then to the dreadwing in front of him. He blinked rapidly a few times, confusion coursing through his mind.

Then it occurred to him this dreadwing was none other than Bone Grinder. He saw the sapphire necklace hanging around his furred neck, the stone tag marked with his name. The creature had been waiting for him in the forest the whole time, and he hadn't come back until now.

Bone Grinder stamped over to him, and if a dreadwing could show concern, this one definitely did. Roland was fine, other than trying to realise his terror was for nothing now. He looked to Ashlyn, who hadn't yet moved, other than her shivering, studying the leaves at her feet.

"I-I'm sorry I didn't come back. My curiosity just disappeared after..." He stopped. The dreadwing seemed to understand. He sighed. "You've... probably seen what's happened to Firemore. Everything is gone."

Bone Grinder hummed in understanding. Roland looked back at Ashlyn. She still hadn't moved a muscle. He slowly trod over to her. She didn't meet his gaze. He opened his maw, breathing a shaky breath, then knelt down and opened his satchel, fishing for one of the two spirit gems inside.

"Crush this," he said, handing it to her. It reminded him of the time she'd given him a spirit gem. It was as if she'd been wanting to help all this time. The robbery, the words she'd spoken about Drevon and Seth, her overall kindness...

She'd wanted them all to be happy before she laid her claws on Carolin. She'd never wanted to do it. He'd seen her with Carolin, and it was obvious she'd just wanted to be friends.

Ashlyn had just never had a choice in any of this. And that disgusted Roland.

The spirit gem crunched between her paws, magic particles floating around her facial scales. Her face was red with blood, and her bruising didn't heal much, but she didn't seem to be dealing with any more than a tolerable ache now.

"Are you... okay?" he asked. "I know, it's a stupid question, but..."

"I-I am so, _so_ sorry, Roland..." She shook her head, gazing into him. She wasn't crying, but she seemed to struggle not to. "This is my fault. It all is. I did all this..."

Roland shook his head, sitting down in front of her. "N-no, I... I don't believe that. Not anymore. It was your dad all this time. Y-you... You saved me... You didn't want to to kill her, did you?"

She didn't answer, but he was able to take it as a yes. The dreadwing behind him didn't seem to come near them, as if he was trying to respect their privacy.

"But why, Ashlyn?" he questioned. "Why did _he_ want to?"

She swallowed, breathing hard. Roland opened his mouth again.

"You don't have to answer now." He looked around him. Ashlyn's father hadn't returned yet. He hoped he wouldn't for a long time, so they had time to leave. "I know it's night and you're tired and hurt, and _I'm_ curious, but... it's probably best if we go deeper into the forest so he can't find us again."

She nodded slowly. "Y-yeah..."

"C'mon," he offered her his paw. She took it and lifted herself from the forest floor, wiping the blood from her cheek. "Let's get going. We'll get away from that monster. We'll make sure we never see him again."


	13. Beyond Firemore

Beyond Firemore

The world was silent, except for the occasional chirp of insects in the undergrowth, and Roland's heavy breathing. He'd spent what felt like an hour running and now he finally had the chance to rest. The gloom of night stretched its dark fingers across the land, visible through the dying leaves above. He sat near the edge of the forest and close to him was the Faymaw, a gaping mouth of water that stretched fifty feet across. It was Firemore's main source of water – or, at least, had been – flowing down the valleys and past Midrun, a small fishing town on the coast.

Roland slumped against the bark of a tree, hesitantly deciding how to start conversation with the dragoness a few metres from him, who scrutinised the fallen leaves and sticks. Her face was set, neutral. She didn't seem scared anymore, so that was a plus. They hadn't heard the blue monster coming after them, so hopefully he was far away now.

But they didn't take any chances. They hadn't constructed a campfire, for they didn't want to be found. The only light came from the display above. Roland stared up, into the stars he could eye through the now thin canopy. The celestial moons were two enormous eyes in the centre of the sky, gazing into the land far below. Faint reds and greens adorned the skies, curling amongst the stars. He wondered if Ashlyn liked the stars. Maybe that would be a good talking point. Considering that picture he'd picked up was hers, of those dragons gazing into the night, he assumed so.

He didn't feel ready to talk yet himself. He was still pondering the events in Firemore. He'd killed a dragon. Everything he'd known was now memory. He took it as best as he could, though. He tried his best to keep his thoughts from wandering there. All he could do was move on. He'd been doing that his whole life.

He felt uncomfortable. He saw this dragoness in front of him, a murderer of a little girl, a good friend of his, and just didn't know what to say.

It had been her fault that Firemore was gone... But was it really _her_ fault?

Roland didn't know. That was what he needed to find out.

He had a thought. He opened his satchel and scanned the page he'd been thinking about, the dreadwing that'd called him a friend looking over his shoulder. Bone Grinder looked at Ashlyn for a split second, seeming to realise she was feeling down. Surprisingly, she hadn't reacted over the fact the beast was still with them, and even looked thankful he had saved the two of them just in time. She was engrossed by her thoughts more so, however.

Roland looked to dreadwing and frowned. Bone Grinder hummed, in a more sorrowful way than he expected. "You keep surprising me," Roland whispered. "You're a lot smarter than you look. It's like you know how we feel."

He didn't know whether the creature took it as an insult or a compliment, or maybe even neither, but he didn't seem to care too much at the moment. Bone Grinder eyed Ashlyn with what was probably pity. Then, he made his move.

"What are you..." Roland didn't finish his hushed sentence, for the dreadwing wouldn't hear him. Bone Grinder paced over to Ashlyn, a deep thud in his step. He wanted to cheer her up. His presence alone probably wouldn't make her happy, though.

She didn't even notice the dreadwing walking over, but when he sat down right beside her, looking at her with deep yellow eyes, she jumped, startled.

"W-woah!" She backed away a bit, but the tree behind her spine stopped her. "D-don't..."

She stopped when she stared into those eyes. Roland decided to move over as well at that moment. He got up, cracked his back, and walked to her. Ashlyn didn't turn her gaze to him, more focused on the dreadwing peering into her.

Roland sat in front of her. He still needed an explanation, but he could start by cheering her up.

"He's friendly, don't worry," Roland said, the paper still folded in his paws. "At least, I think he is."

Ashlyn nodded slowly. She eyed the slip of paper with curiosity. "Y-yeah, it's... j-just a little weird sitting next to something that could rip me apart in seconds."

"How do you think I felt when he came running after me?" He smiled a little. "He shoved me into a tree and everything, picked me up by my leg covered in frogweed acid..."

Bone Grinder stared ahead nonchalantly. Roland pouted.

"Weird animal... I wonder who you actually belong to."

"Same," Ashlyn replied, itching her chin. "Why would a wild animal just come along and like you but no one else? Well, until you tell it they're a friend, that is."

"No clue." He shrugged. "I hope I can find out soon. I have so many questions on my mind..."

His words stopped Ashlyn in her place, but she just went back to staring at the leaves littered across the forest floor, the flecks of dirt on her paws. Usually she'd try to clean herself. There was still red on her cheek, and her body was covered in dirt and stray twigs, just like his, but she didn't seem to care this night.

He scratched the back of his head. He didn't know how to feel around her. He wasn't dead, at least.

He wasn't dead _because of her_ he realised. She'd wanted him alive. It was obvious she didn't want to kill him. The thought struck him as stupid when he thought over what he'd witnessed a while ago.

She was trying her best to be friendly. That he could tell. She was trying her _best_.

Roland sighed and looked up again, at the stars of the night twinkling like little beads of gold, at the colours swirling and spiralling across the great black canvas. He took the paper in his paws and folded it out. Somehow, it sort of seemed to represent the area they were sitting in right now. There was a small cliff that led into the grasslands of Firemore up ahead and there the stars would shine brightest, like the ones in the drawing. Ashlyn looked to the paper in his paws and then also to her satchel, remembering she had none in it.

"You're an artist, aren't you?" he asked, showing her the drawing. Her maw parted at just the sight of it, and then she reached out for it with her paws. He gladly let her have it. It wasn't his to keep. "It's a really nice drawing. You're pretty skilled. I can't even draw anything, let alone a _dragon_. I'm not good at anatomy or anything."

"Where did you find this?" She stared in awe, as if it shouldn't have existed. She must've been expecting all her work to disintegrate in the blast.

He smiled a little. She seemed a lot happier that one of her pieces had survived. "On the ground in your house. I saw it and I kind of wanted to keep it, but now that you're here..."

"Well, thanks. This one... does mean a lot to me."

He walked beside her so he could look at the picture, too. Bone Grinder was intrigued and studied it over the both of them. Roland's eyes were set on the smaller dragon. "I'm guessing that's supposed to be you in the picture?"

"Y-yeah, I was a lot younger then," she answered. "You can probably recognise the shape of the horns."

Ashlyn's horns were sharp and curled up a tiny bit at the end. He could see that through a line that added depth to her appearance. "Yeah. And... who's the other one?"

"That was... Mum."

Her face sorrowed at the words. The dreadwing hummed again, sadly. Roland nodded slowly. He could guess what had happened.

"Your mother must've meant a lot to you," he said, voice small. "I'm sorry about... whatever happened."

"I-it's okay." She shrugged. It didn't happen recently, that much was obvious. How long had Ashlyn been dealing with her father, without proper family? "It was a thunderstorm near Shimmervale. We were travelling to Warfang, and... she was struck out of the air. Struck by lightning. It was really stormy, and... yeah."

"I'm sorry about that. I didn't mean to make this conversation... painful." Roland looked down for a moment. Ashlyn just exhaled.

"You deserve to know after everything I did."

"I... would like an explanation of why you killed Carolin," he said. "Why your father wanted that."

Ashlyn slumped deeper into the tree she was against. The dreadwing beside them laid on his stomach, resting his head on the ground, listening closely. Roland looked towards her, but she couldn't meet his gaze.

He needed to figure this out. It was the first step...

He really didn't want to hate her, not anymore. After the blue dragon, he simply couldn't.

He turned to the forest's edge and an idea came to him. He hoped it would make it easier for her to explain her actions. "Do you like looking at the stars?" he asked. Ashlyn frowned.

"Yeah, I... I guess. Why?"

"Why don't we go out there, to that cliff face?" He got to his feet, hoping she would come despite her answer. "I find I can think a lot easier when I look at them."

"...Sure. Why not?"

He smiled weakly before turning to the dreadwing. "Bone Grinder, stay. Do you understand that?"

Bone Grinder nodded slowly, although in disappointment. Hopefully he did know what the red dragon meant.

The pair of dragons walked through past the few trees and to the cliff face. Right here, he could see the stars in their full, unrivalled beauty. Some would say each was an Ancestor, looking down upon the world, holding and cradling those sorrowed and hurt tight. It was reassuring to think about that, that someone was always there to care. Roland wondered if Carolin had joined the Ancestors for their midnight watch.

He hoped so. He hoped she was living life far better up there. It was true happiness up there. A pessimistic soul might've said that that sounded boring, but that was nothing but perfection to Roland. In the end, all he'd ever wanted was for everyone to be happy.

He wanted the dragoness beside him to be happy as well. She was troubled. Troubled by what she did and what caused it.

Ashlyn was transfixed by the stars and he wondered if she was pondering the same things as he. Roland cleared his throat, and Ashlyn snapped out of the trance the lights were putting her in.

"I... don't know where to start," she said. "How do I..."

"Just say what comes to mind. I don't mind, as long I know what's happened and why you did it."

"Well... I guess I'll begin at the start. It was part of a much bigger plot than just murdering someone. Guardians have so much magical energy, enough that they can feel aether in the air as long as they're not bothered by something. Everyone forgot a purple dragon existed, and not many knew anyway, because the ceremony held for the purple dragon ended up being very small. If they did know, then they didn't want to be around a purple dragon, not after Malefor. Not after Spyro."

"Yeah, I know all this." Roland nodded. "Why are you telling me this?"

Ashlyn shifted in place. "W-well... the Guardians of Warfang weren't really in the right mind. I've heard rumours they fell victim to the effects of dark aether and survived, but I don't know if that's true. They knew a purple dragon existed by the magic in the air, and right as Drevon was born, they wanted him to turn to the dark."

"Why would they want _that_? Are they trying to finish what the Dark Master started?"

"I-I don't know." She shook her head. "My dad, Aurus, was originally a part of the guard in Warfang before the Guardians approached him, and was an assassin by night, despite the difficulties that caused. He was loyal to one of them: Keres, the earth Guardian. She wasn't my mum, but my mother suspected he was in a secret relationship with her. The way he acted around her, stuff like that."

Sometimes Roland thought about his father doing things like that to his mother. When he thought long and hard about his past, his father, while he'd tried to seem as happy and caring as possible, had never really felt all that trustworthy. He understood Ashlyn's feelings.

"He'd been killing for a long time, and when Keres found out about that, she saw an opportunity to use him. So my dad and I moved to Firemore," she explained. "They gave us a mansion to stay in with a bunker under a trap door so we could survive if disaster struck when Drevon turned. H-he... He was tasked with assassinating Carolin, to get the purple dragon to _that_ point. And he just accepted that. He was used to it. Keres was always... alluring to him, and she knew that. She promised h-he could sleep with her when he came back, and he was completely fine with that as a reward. They were also going to give him spirit gems. He was addicted to them, too. I think they're might've been more than that, but... I-I don't know."

Roland shuffled a little closer. He didn't like to be around when she lost her composure and fires were set beneath her feet, but he felt she needed some support.

She was a murderer... but she never wanted it. It was forced atop her, and she could barely do a thing about it.

"Before we came to Firemore, h-he... tried to shove it all on me. All the assassinating. I couldn't ever do it, and I had to bring whoever he wanted back to him." He could feel her quiver beside him. "But my dad didn't like that. Didn't like getting his paws dirty. Eventually... h-he made me do it to Carolin. You didn't see him... but he was there, watching."

Roland knew where this was going now, and Ashlyn realised that he knew, too. "I see..."

She looked at her paws, inhaling, trying to calm herself. It didn't seem to work. "It was so hard, listening to Carolin beg to let her go. I didn't want to kill her. I didn't... But I did. I had to." She gulped down the ball gathering in her throat. "H-he threatened to hurt me whenever I didn't listen to him, and he did. He kept promising he would... d-do _things_ to me, but he never did that. He was scaring the shit out of me. And he was always like that, but when we moved to Firemore, it just... e-escalated. He didn't care about anyone but himself a-and... fucking that green bitch!"

"That's horrible." Roland looked at her apologetically. "Y-you don't have to tell me about all these things if you don't want to. I don't mind being there to listen, but you can stop if it hurts you to think about all this."

"Y-yeah, you're right... I'm getting mad thinking about it. S-sorry..."

"It's okay. I just wanna know why they wanted Carolin dead and Drevon angry."

"Well... I don't know. I don't really know much about why the Guardians wanted Drevon to turn, but... I guess they got what they wanted. And... I-I gave it to them. I'm terrible. I should've ran when I had the chance... I could've stopped all of this. Firemore's gone, and that's on me..."

"No, it's not on _you_ ," Roland said. "You..."

"You don't _understand_." She shook her head. "I had so many opportunities to just get up and _run away_ , but I didn't take a single one of them. I was too scared of what he would do to me, and now I've destroyed an _entire city_ because of that..."

Roland looked down, into the leaves scattered around them. She brought up a good point. But he felt he had a better one.

"People... don't usually talk about this kind of thing. Or write about it for that matter. So, I've had a hard time learning about it, and what people do in these situations." He picked at the dirt between his scales. "I tried to figure out what my father was doing with my mum way back, and I think I did eventually come to... sort of an answer."

She exhaled. "I thought it would get better if I just tried to love him more, but it never did. Well, sometimes he'd be really nice, and then he would just change back... I don't know what was with that. I don't think I can ever love him now. I don't ever want to go back."

"That's what some manipulative people do. It's what made my mum stay, because she thought it would get better." Roland sighed. "Being scared of what someone might do if you don't do as you're told is understandable, Ashlyn. Just thinking about the things my dad used to say to my mum... It's just hard to blame it on you after what your father has done to you. I'm smarter than that. I've seen someone else go through a sort of similar thing and it's made me understand why and how people go through this."

"But, Roland, I–"

"Did you ever try to get away from him?" he asked. Ashlyn nodded quickly.

"Y-yeah, I tried several times, when I built up the courage, but... that was a long time ago. He found me all those times. I never got far, because he was always watching me. And he had friends in the guard who were always watching the walls, so if I ever left... I could've tried again. Roland, I could've tried again! I could've, and–"

"Maybe you could've tried again, but, if anything, you didn't want this at all." He smiled slightly. "And if you were stuck like that, then I can't really blame you for anything, Ashlyn. Plus... you saved me from Aurus, and I need to thank you somehow for that."

She didn't look at him.

"I think you deserve a second chance," he said. "I... I don't want to hate you, Ashlyn. I don't want to be out here alone. I was angry before, but... now I just feel confused. Weak."

Ashlyn didn't really seem like she believed him, but his kind words did make her smile, if only weakly. "Well, it's understandable you were angry, I..."

She trailed off. Roland opened his mouth a few seconds later. "You know, if you'd talked to us, we could've helped you get away. We did know a few people. But I understand why you don't think you could've. I know you had nothing to do with this. It's done now. It's in the past. We've gotta move on. We did the best we could, and... now Firemore's gone. We've gotta live with that."

She didn't say another word. He hoped he'd gotten through to her. He really didn't believe she was at fault anymore. Of course, she'd done the deed, and did have agency over her decisions, but she'd been put in a predicament he didn't think he'd be able to deal with at all. His experiences seemed far better than that of hers. She didn't have much of a choice in any of that, and he couldn't blame that on her.

He wanted to forgive her, knowing that, in the end, she'd just been a scared child amongst a lifetime of fear and agony. It was Aurus that he truly despised now.

"You wanna be better, don't you?" he asked her. She nodded quickly. "Then that's all I really need to hear."

It didn't mean he could immediately trust her again. He was still wary, however much less so. All he felt now was confusion. Anxiety. He didn't really know what he was going to do.

Carolin...

She'd killed her... She could've stopped it. But she didn't.

But he wanted to forgive her.

But...

He sighed a few seconds later, thoughts finally returning to the life he'd lost. He was at a loss. It was really only just starting to sink in. His entire hometown, turned to ashes in an instant. The memories, his legacy as the Red Rodent, the sewers he adored... All dead, burnt away by the magic of the purple dragon. He couldn't find Myrtle earlier, or any of his friends. At least he could believe in them making it out.

Everything he lived for was gone. Life had been amazing, and now... life was just gone.

What was he going to do?

Roland rubbed his temples. He was reminded of his father and his mother. He didn't want to be like them. His father had been cruel... He didn't want to be cruel like him. He didn't want to be like that to Ashlyn. Her actions weren't justified, but she was confused, just like he was now. She didn't know what to do. She could barely help it, living scared like that.

And if he'd been thrust into the same situation, he might've acted the same way, too.

"I've... kind of made this night about myself," Ashlyn said, concern evident in her tone. "But I can only imagine what you have to be going through right now. I-I'm surprised you were even able to get up and talk to me. You're taking it pretty well. I'm... really sorry. For everything. I want to help, but I don't know how."

"I've... just gotta move on..." he said. He choked a little, thinking about the life he'd lost. "I've been moving on from things my entire life. I'm used to moving on. I do have hope my friends all got out. I didn't see any of them in the corpses, so I'm counting on them being alive. I know it's far-fetched, but I'm going to believe in that. Myrtle's a strong dragoness. She was right next to me and I couldn't find her. I hope Drevon's okay, too."

He stopped for a moment, realising he'd been quite stupid. He'd forgotten a detail amongst his confusion, his anxiety.

"...Where _is_ Drevon? What's he doing? He wouldn't have died in his own explosion, surely."

Ashlyn's head turned to the leaves again. "I don't know. He might've worn out his power. After that city-wide explosion..."

Roland shook his head, panic in his tone. "This could get bad. Really, _really_ bad for the Dragon Realms. Drevon is way too strong with emotions like those. He could destroy us all."

Ashlyn shook her head. "Dark aether is a powerful substance. The more it's used, the more corrupt the dragon within becomes. And Drevon... would've used a lot of dark aether there. Roland, you... might not even recognise what he looks like anymore. He could be huge. He could be... _warped and twisted_. I just hope he's run out of power."

"I've heard stories," Roland said. "But I'm not about to give up hope on Drevon. I can't just let him deal more damage."

Roland looked to the stars, to the Ancestors above, and inhaled deeply. Firemore had been destroyed. His entire hometown. Everything. It was all gone. His life had been destroyed. All of his dreams and wishes had disappeared.

But he had something else now. Something he'd never had once in his whole life.

He didn't like it, didn't like feeling special in any way at all, but it wasn't for him to decide what happened anymore. The Ancestors were guiding him now. He would have to trust them on this one.

He had a purpose.

"I need to find Drevon," he said.

Ashlyn looked to him, as though astounded by the thought. "H-how are you going to find him?"

He looked down the cliff, across the vast grasslands. He hadn't thought of that, but it didn't matter much to him. When he had his mind set on something, he would never abandon it. And for his best friend? He would do anything. "I'm going to search the Dragon Realms until I do. I need to help him fight this battle."

Ashlyn nodded. When he thought about what he said, it sounded unreasonable. The entirety of the Dragon Realms was at his claw tips. Drevon surely couldn't have gone far past Firemore, or maybe he was still biding his time in the remnants. That was still so much to search, however... He'd never find the purple dragon within. To think he could was illogical.

"I don't know how I'm gonna do it," he said moments later. "I'm stupid. I'll never find him. He could be _anywhere_ now. I... I can't just go out alone."

"Hey, don't just give up hope like that," she said. "We'll find him."

He sighed. Then a frown crossed his features. " _We_?"

"Roland, I..." She looked distantly into the stars. "I want to go with you. I want to help you, as far-fetched as actually finding him might be to you. Plus, I... have a debt to repay."

"A debt?" he questioned, cocking his head.

"I could've done something... but that's not the point. You... _accepted_ me despite what happened. You listened, a-and you made me feel a lot better about it all. Nobody's ever treated me like that. You're kind. I'd like to help you by repaying that kindness. I might have an idea on where Drevon is."

He felt a bit better at her words, but the final part caught his interest in a snap. "You _do_?! Where?!"

She was taken aback by his noise, but she should've expected it. "Well, the dark aether Drevon has works a lot like a fury. It's only temporary. I'd think Drevon's darkness would've worn off by now, and if he's a reasonable person, I would say he's gone to Midrun. That's where I would go, and that's where I did see a few dragons who survived the blast going. Let's just hope the power hasn't corrupted him."

"Wouldn't it just be a hassle to you?" Roland asked. He'd much rather not waste her time, even if she did seem to know what she was talking about.

"D-Dad and I were going to head that way, too. I don't really have anywhere else _to_ go. Plus, honestly... I don't really know how much you've been in the wilderness, but I'd say you've lived in the city your whole life."

"What does that have to do with this?" He frowned. So many questions and answers that boggled his mind. Her answer did make him chuckle slightly, though.

"Well, I-I-I d-don't want to sound offensive, but I-I'd figure you wouldn't have much... _experience_. Th-the world's a dangerous place, Roland. There's monsters and stuff at every wrong turn, even if we do have our own. S-safety in numbers!"

They both briefly turned around to the sound of shuffling, finding Bone Grinder who preened his wings. Couldn't sit still, that beast couldn't. The dreadwing looked up at Roland and grunted softly, awaiting his return.

"It's okay," he told her. "I understand."

"Oh, y-you do? I thought I was being kinda mean..."

"No, just honest," he said. He did feel a stroke of deviousness at that moment. "I can see what you mean. I _am_ pretty flimsy. I need a strong girl like you to protect me."

"I-I'm not that strong!" she exclaimed, legs as stiff as boards. "I guess I can use my element pretty well, but–"

"You're smarter than me, too."

"N-no, Roland, stop..."

"You're also not as ugly as me."

"By Ignitus, stop!" she yelled, shoving him, and he fell back a few steps. A few giggles escaped her maw, and he couldn't help but chortle himself. "How does that have anything to do with this!?"

"It doesn't, but I proved my point. You're stronger."

Then, when she realised she'd made even a smidgen of physical contact, her features twisted into worry. "Oh, I-I d-didn't mean to push you, I..."

"Do you always do this whenever you joke around?" he asked. "I don't mean to sound rude, but it's kind of obnoxious. A little push isn't going to hurt me. I give you full permission to push me around. Trying to be a _friend_ isn't going to make me hate you. In fact, it makes me feel better about you."

That word almost looked confusing to her. _Friend_. He didn't know what to make of her bewildered expression. He didn't know if he could call her a friend yet, but he'd sure as hell like to start over and rebuild what they'd lost, even if it hadn't been much in the first place.

"...But sure," he continued. "If you really wanna come, I guess you can follow me. I'd probably get lonely out here anyway. It's safer to travel with someone else."

She breathed a sigh, but this time it was one of a relief. She even gave him a light push to show she understood his words. He snickered at that, as did she. "Great. Let's head back to where we were. Your dreadwing's clearly waiting for you.

He was about to move, but a bulb flicked on in his head. He tore the satchel from his neck and reached into its leathery walls, eventually pulling her gleaming ring from within.

"I almost forgot I had this," he said, holding it for her to see. She loosed an amazed gasp, staring upon its golden form.

"My ring! Roland! Where did you find it!? I thought I lost it forever!"

"Just on the ground, near a seat next your place a little while back," he said, handing it to her. She was quick to slot it back to the toe from whence it came. "Where did you get it? It seems very important to you."

"It was a gift from Mum." She brightly smiled into its polished surface. "It was my tenth birthday present. She said that, whenever I look into it, I should think of her. I've taken good care of it for six years now. Or... well, I've tried."

"That's really sweet of her." Roland looked behind him again, and Bone Grinder once more stared at him. The dreadwing wandered back into the forest. "We should head back into the forest. It's getting late."

"Yeah, let's."

As they pushed past the leaves and sticks, Bone Grinder came into sight again, and he quickly padded over to the pair, mostly towards Roland. Roland stopped and leaned back, the beast's muzzle right in his face.

"H-hello," he stuttered. "We're back. We talked about things."

Bone Grinder snorted, then pulled at Roland's leg. A small squeak of pain left his muzzle, but he was forced to the ground by the huge furred mass above him before any damage was caused. The dreadwing would've been heavy atop his back, but held himself upright so he didn't crush him.

Instead, he... seemed to be covering him in its long, tangled fur, to keep him warm. It wasn't exactly cold out – not yet, anyway. Winter was fast approaching, though, and any fatherly instinct the dreadwing had was coming into play.

Ashlyn looked down at him, first with a little worry, and then with a giggle. He narrowed his eyes from his almost humiliating position, his head poking out of the hulking mass above him.

"Well, at least I'm warm."

"How's the smell?"

"Perfect..."

But it wasn't uncomfortable. In fact, he felt safe. The dreadwing reminded him of his bed, if only it smelt of rot and the mattress was grass poking at his underbelly.

"Well, I'll... see you tomorrow, Roland," she said. "I guess I'll take first watch, I–"

The dreadwing emitted something close to a growl. Roland couldn't see the beast's eyes from here, but he seemed angry at even the notion that Ashlyn would watch the perimeter. She took a few steps back.

"I... guess the dreadwing will take first watch, then," she said to Roland. The dreadwing accepted that response with an enthusiastic hum. Roland wondered if these creatures were nocturnal.

"What do you mean _watch_?" he asked. "Can't we just go to sleep?"

"And be attacked by something in the middle of the night without knowing it?" She shook her head and almost seemed to be sorry over his inexperience in the wild. "Sorry, I-I shouldn't be so rude... These woods are full of bell spiders and death hounds. We're lucky we didn't run into a single one. And trust me, you don't want to be licked by a frogweed in the middle of the night."

"I see. You're right. I'm an idiot." He smiled. "Night, Ashlyn. I'll try my best to stay awake. I don't trust Bone Grinder yet to not fall asleep, considering he's an animal, but... he does seem like he knows what he's doing. It's like he's been taught by someone."

"Yeah... Alright then. Goodnight," she said, pacing towards a tree. "And... thanks for everything tonight."

He watched her settle down against the tree and close her eyes to rest. Within a few minutes, she started to lean, and then fell to her side in an ungraceful mess of limbs. She didn't wake up from that, at least.

He looked up at the dreadwing. "Do you mind if I call you Fluffy?" he asked. "Bone Grinder's just a bit of a mouthful every time I say it."

The dreadwing didn't answer, although it didn't seem to care much either.

"Well, alright then, Fluffy. Thanks for saving us. I'd be dead if it wasn't for you."

Fluffy thrummed contentedly. Roland sighed into his scarf.

Firemore might've been destroyed, but at least something good had happened since then. He hoped tomorrow – or was it today? – would end up slightly better. It was a long way to walk to Midrun.

He hoped he'd find his friends there...

* * *

A tap on Roland's right wing startled him from his slumber. He didn't feel like he'd slept even a wink last night. He groaned.

"Ugh, I'm awake..." He looked to the blue dragoness. Why was she awake at this time? The sky was amber with the sun rising; the yellow orb over yonder was only beginning to peek over short, grassy hills, beginning its journey to the west. He eyed her with minor irritation. "Did you even sleep?" He undid the buckles on Garv's satchel, snatching at the pocket watch inside. Its golden hands read six o'clock. "It's only six!"

"Y-yeah, I know what you're used to," she said, staring at the forest floor. Her eyes were still black with exhaustion. Or was that the damage her father had done? He couldn't tell, nor did he really want to think about what he'd witnessed. "I like sleeping, too. But we should get an early start. We'll cover more distance. The sooner we wake up in the morning, the sooner we can get to Midrun. Plus, we did kinda go to bed really late. I think we both only got three hours... We'll sleep a little earlier tonight."

He couldn't agree more with that logic. He was dedicated enough to his cause to forgo the sleep schedule he was used to. He rolled over, got up, and stretched his legs until his muscles were no longer taut. "Fine... I guess you're right. But when we do get to Midrun and find Drevon, don't expect me to wake up like this every day. I like my sleep."

"Speaking of you sleeping, I thought you were going to try and stay up."

He'd completely forgotten! He was supposed to be watching their surroundings for danger, but alas, he'd ended up drifting off anyway.

Where was Fluffy?

He turned a full revolution before spotting the dreadwing, coiled around a thick branch, hanging like a bat, only of gargantuan proportions. The branch threatened to snap under his weight. His yellow eyes constantly shifted, warily scanning the gloom of the forest's insides. Somehow, he didn't seem the least bit tired. He must've moved away from Roland when he realised the red dragon was asleep.

Even if Roland hardly knew the thing, he felt just a little closer because of how much Fluffy seemed to care for him. He was there for him and, despite having no clue in the slightest to why he was, that made Roland a little happy. He just wished his other friends were here, too.

In spite of the calamitous explosion, he still had friends. He didn't think he'd be capable of dealing with any of this if it wasn't for the other people here. He hoped he'd see the rest in Midrun.

"R-Roland?" Ashlyn's voice cut in. He averted his gaze from the nothingness he stared into, noting Ashlyn's concern.

"S-sorry," he apologised. "Just daydreaming. And yeah, I'm sorry for falling asleep. I was really tired."

She just shrugged a few moments later. "I think the dreadwing was awake all night anyway. We're okay, it doesn't matter. We're lucky we don't live in the era of the Dark Army anymore. You'd never get to sleep, knowing there were apes at every corner."

"Oh, I've heard _all about_ the Dark Army. Drevon's obsessed with war stuff. I've heard every name of every ape commander probably five times over." When he finally got to stretching his wings, a burning spike of pain shot through them. He visibly flinched, gritting his teeth. He recognised the feeling as gem burn, a condition that could spread to any part of the body if one consumed too many spirit gems over a long period of time. Suffice it to say, he wouldn't be using any gems for a while, else the burning would get worse. It only occurred when injuries were present, and Roland had been injured and healed many a time in recent memory.

"Are you okay, Roland?" Ashlyn asked, preparing to take off. "You look like you just sprained something."

"Gem burn," he replied. "It's in my wings. I don't think I'm gonna be able to fly for a day or two. I should've realised when I was taking so many, but I was too focused on everything else."

"Oh..." She deflated a little. Any dragon would get excited over the prospect of being able to fly somewhere for once, considering all the rules and regulations against it in major cities, as it was a danger to people everywhere, except for the city of Shimmervale, populated by only dragons. Now that she had the chance, he was holding her back. "Well, it's okay. We can walk, maybe score a meal on the way."

"I'm really sorry. I'm a nuisance." He started moving towards the cliff face. How he yearned to soar through the air, feel the wind nip at his face, now an impossibility unless he wished to torture his muscles. "Oh well. Hey, Fluffy, we're going!"

He spun around to meet the dreadwing's eyes, but Fluffy had already moved and leaped into the air, gliding through the sky, giving them an aerial eye. He circled around the two dragons like a vulture foraging for scraps. Roland still continued to wonder why this dreadwing did all these things for him.

"Better up there than down here, I guess," Ashlyn said, uneasy. "I know it saved us both last night, but... I really don't feel comfortable around it. It's got... _fangs_ all the way down its _throat_. It's really weird. I want to know where it came from."

Roland peered down the cliff face, studying the sparkling Faymaw twisting through the grasslands, past rocky crags and small mountains. The chill of winter shook his scales. He wished he could be like Fluffy, furred and warm, and able to soar through the air. At least he had a scarf.

"Same," he said later, taking his first step down the steep hillside. Little rock platforms made it easy enough to get down. Strangely, there was a sign of old civilisation about them, carvings and what looked like brickwork. He remembered a speech made in the market square of Firemore about researching an ancient civilisation long forgotten. The ruins were scattered and rare, but they were the only signs of wyverns long dead, thought of as precursors to dragons, or at least that was what he'd heard. Maybe he wasn't remembering it right. He'd heard of wyverns being used in Malefor's army, but apparently they were unnatural creatures summoned by Malefor. The wyverns who built these ruins were the real deal, two-legged dragons, ancestors of ages past.

There was a tent nearby at the bottom, but it was full of holes and torn with wear, and he couldn't see anyone for miles. He assumed some kind of archaeologist had been here, studying the ruins.

"But Fluffy doesn't seem to want to hurt us," he continued. "I think he's nice."

"Is that what you're calling it now? Fluffy?"

"Well, he _is_ fluffy..."

Her laugh was gentle. "You're a writer, aren't you? So uninspired..."

"Hey!" he exclaimed. "I think Fluffy is a perfect name! Better than _Bone Grinder._ "

"Yeah, you're right... S-sorry, I-I didn't mean to make fun of your writing, I–"

He narrowed his eyes. "You're allowed to make jokes at my expense! I thought you got that last night. I give you _my permission._ It's all in good fun, you iceberg. Be like Myrtle and insult me."

"I... j-just don't like making people unhappy." She followed him down the platforms, to the bottom of the cliff face. He felt his cheeriness die a little. "I want to do the opposite."

The grass was long and tickled Roland's stomach. Little energetic grasshoppers bounced through the lush field, occasionally jumping onto the red dragon's scales. He didn't mind; they were free to take a ride with him if they wished.

"W-well... j-just stop worrying. Loosen up a little." He brushed the grass aside. His tail blade, while dull, cut the grass up behind him as he moved. The air was permeated by a scent, one of fresh rain from the night before. Now, in some ways, he was glad he was down here instead of flying, because then he would never get to experience such a pleasant smell. Just thinking about his wings made them ache, however. He looked back at Ashlyn and grinned a bit. "Trust me, if you ever hurt my feelings with one of your jabs, I'll tell you. But I'm a pretty resilient dragon. I doubt you will."

The breath that left her maw was one of relief. He frowned shortly. "I-I guess... You don't _look_ all that resilient, though," she added, her mouth adopting its own tiny smirk.

"Wow, a 'Roland looks unhealthy' joke," he said, dripping with sarcasm. He was trying his best to be friendly. She deserved that from him at least. If she was going to try her best to redeem herself, he was going to try his best to help her along. "I'm so surprised. You can do better than that."

"Hey, I thought that one was pretty good!" She jogged up to him, standing by his side. They passed beneath a tree. Its branches were lined with a red fruit. Ashlyn's stomach audibly groaned. "A-are you hungry?"

"Kinda, but you definitely sound like you are." He looked up, stopping beneath the shade. "What are they? Do you think you can get them down?"

"Wild apples. They use them in those apple pies you like." She stared down a red, ripe fruit. "And yeah... I think so. There was a whole orchard right outside Firemore."

He thought she would fly up to pick them off the branch, but instead, with remarkable accuracy, she shot a spike of ice through the centre of two, skewering them both. They fell with a feeble thud.

"Nice shooting," he remarked, picking them both up. He ripped the spike out of the pair and tossed one to Ashlyn, his paw sticky with juice. She caught it in her mouth with a grin. "Damn, nice catching, too."

"Th-thanks..." she said, mouth full. And he thought she was graceful... Now that he looked at her, she'd cleaned up since last night, probably before she'd woken him up. Her scales shined with a sparkle, fresh water droplets still coursing through her scales. She'd probably jumped in the Faymaw. Roland still didn't care much for his appearance, but this dirt and grime was annoying him somewhat. It was the sewers he was used to, not the mud outside Firemore. He could clean up when he arrived in Midrun, no point wasting time now.

He looked down at himself and frowned. Still covered in ash, now flecked with dirt and marked with the occasional stray twig. Maybe he could use one now...

He peered down at the apple in his paws and finally took a bite. He scrunched his face up at the taste. Sour, not a single nugget of sweet inside, completely unlike the apple pies he adored.

"Yuck." He looked at it in disgust. Somehow, Ashlyn cheerfully chewed down on hers. "This is nothing like apple pie."

She swallowed her next bite. The entire thing was almost gone. He was starving too, but he didn't know if he could put himself through such an experience again. "That's probably because of all the sugar they put in them, Roland."

"Eh, you're probably right." He tried once again, and while the disgusting flavour was off-putting, there wasn't much else he could eat. Maybe they'd encounter a wild piggle or two on the way. That'd settle his gut.

He threw the core to the ground when he was done and started moving again, Ashlyn beside him, into the world beyond Firemore, following the Faymaw. He'd never been far from home, and the calmness in the air still surprised him. The water softly bubbled as it drifted towards the coast, out to the Salamander Sea. The grass was gentle and walking on it was unlike anything he was used to. It was a nice change of pace from the events a day or two ago.

"I hope you don't mind me saying so–" she looked to him with an apologetic expression – "but don't you think you should have a wash before we get to Midrun? You wouldn't make a very good first impression."

"Eh, it's fine," he said. "Maybe they'll think I just need to be taken care of more because I look so hurt."

"W-well, I'm betting the first think they'll ask you is if you're a survivor of Firemore, assuming other people have already made it there, and I'm pretty sure someone will before we do considering we're probably a day behind all the others." She skipped over a branch on the ground. "M-maybe... maybe just jump in the river and get out after a few minutes. There's nothing in there that'll bite you, maybe if you head towards Lake Edwin."

"Eh, I dunno..." He angled his head. "Do you really want me to waste time?"

"You can swim along the river. It goes up the way we're going, anyway." She pointed ahead. "Jump in. It feels really nice."

"Guess it would get rid of the stink." Roland shrugged. He approached the edge, carefully pacing along the rocky edge. Twinkling water flowed through the Amory Grasslands, carving a twisting path through the gentle slopes and rocky outcroppings. Blue fish swam and hopped along the surface of the river. Up ahead, he could see mining tools stuck in the rocks, a place of recent spirit gem mining. "And those waters do look nice, you're right... Fine, I'll jump in."

He didn't wait for her response, cannonballing into the water. In an instant, almost all of the ash smothering his red scales washed off, a cloud of black floating away with the stream. He rose from the water, shaking his head, rubbing his eyes clear.

"Are you happy now?" he said, treading water, following the dragoness stepping along the rocks. She hadn't seemed to have expected him to follow through with her words. "Maybe if I stay here for a bit I'll look as polished as you are."

"Well, no, probably not. You'd need actual scale polish for that, and–"

"I wasn't asking for your beauty tips," he laughed. He looked down at the surface of the water, watching fish scatter from his body. He tried to grab at one swimming towards him, but it brushed past his claws and followed its frightened kin. "I'm destined to be ugly... Okay, I'm hopping out. I don't like swim–"

A screech shattered the calm like bullet to glass. He still shivered, despite having become familiar with its blasted sound. Ashlyn seemed more affected by it than he, falling back a few steps onto her rear.

He even recognised the tone of the scream now. He could tell that was Fluffy.

"That doesn't sound good," Roland said, clambering out of the water. "I need to see what he's doing."

"N-n-no, Roland, wait. He might–" But Ashlyn's trembling tone was lost to the wind in his ears. He shot over the hills, kicking up dirt and dust with his speed.

There, not far from him, was the dreadwing he'd named Fluffy. The dreadwing rose onto his hind legs, reaching into the air with the talons on its wings. Faint crimson particles jolted around the maw of the beast, and Roland could tell that was the colour of the fear element.

Worst of all, he could see two lightly armoured cheetahs trying their best to defend themselves from the beast, spears pointed towards it, though they cowered before the fear they'd been blasted with. They couldn't do anything about the dreadwing towering over them.

Roland sprinted towards them and, before the dreadwing could so much as lay a claw on them, halted directly in front of the breast, throwing both paws into the air. It took a few seconds for Fluffy to spot him, but when he did, the screaming came to an immediate stop, leaving a ringing in Roland's ear holes.

"Stop!" the red dragon shouted. "No! You can't just kill them!"

"W-w-what the?" one of the cats stuttered, his tone thick with a deep accent. "W-what's going on?"

Fluffy lowered to the red dragon's level, studying him. It seemed confused by the thought of not ripping the entrails out of everything in sight.

Roland waved his paws for further effect. "Killing is wrong, Fluffy! Why would you just try to hit them? Did they attack you?"

"W-we didn't do anything, we swear!" the other cheetah said. His light armour was torn with an angry gash, blood seeping through the cracks. "It came at us out of the air!"

Roland believed him, considering just how violent the other dreadwings had been. And they didn't exactly have anything ranged to use on Fluffy. He turned back to the dreadwing, who angled his head curiously. "You can't just do this. I don't want you to hurt people. Why would you try to attack them?"

The dreadwing didn't say a word. He had an idea, however.

"Are you trying to protect me?"

His last two words got a reaction out of Fluffy. The dreadwing nodded. Roland still found it so peculiar that the animal could understand him in some regard.

"Well... they didn't do anything to me." Roland pointed at the two cheetahs. At the same time, Ashlyn jogged over the cliff, shivering, teeth chattering. "Don't just attack random people. Only attack when I say so."

His head lowered at the scolding. The thing really was like a pet dog. But he needed it for trying to perform something so brutally abhorrent. Roland had seen enough death already, and he didn't need to add these two cheetahs to the enormous list.

"Y-you own this... _monster_?" the accented cheetah asked, lifting himself from the ground. Roland turned.

"I mean... no, but sorta, I guess?" His answer just seemed to confuse the cheetah further. "Fluffy didn't want to attack me specifically and I have no clue why. I'm trying to figure it out."

The other cat hoisted himself up with his spear, clearly injured. He didn't seem in fatal condition, at least. It wasn't like dreadwings had acidic claws or anything. "Wh-who are you?"

"Just a kid," Roland said. It was still natural instinct not to give away his identity. It wasn't like it would matter much in the long run, but he couldn't help it. "Who are _you_?"

"We're guards from Midrun." The uninjured cheetah scratched the top of his blue head, glancing every few seconds at the monster in front of him. Fluffy seemed irritated by his constant looks, slowly starting to bare his fangs. Roland knew he needed to make this quick. "We've been sent to inspect the damage on Firemore, with more of us coming behind. We're hoping we can find some survivors amongst the blast. Are you one of the survivors?"

"Yeah," he answered with a short nod. Ashlyn walked up next to him, minding the hulking mass right behind Roland. "Me and my friend here."

"I'm glad you survived!" the injured cheetah exclaimed before flinching at the pain in his torso. Roland looked at him with some worry, but the cheetah shook his head. "I-it's fine, only a scratch. We've got some paraneda herb with us just in case. But I'm glad you came in time. We would've been killed."

"D-did you pass anyone on your way here?" Ashlyn asked. She seemed to have one particular individual in mind, and Roland had a feeling he knew who. But the cheetah's answer was reassuring.

"Quite a few, actually. A few fire dragons, a mole, a few young dragons... We saw a dragonfly, but he ignored us." The accented cheetah put his paws to hips, humming in thought. "None of them were much for conversation. We saw another cheetah and a dragoness who talked for a bit, at least. We didn't catch the dragoness' name, but I think the cheetah said his name was... Harper? Was that it? He was a fellow guard, I think."

"Harper!?" Ashlyn was shaken by the name. Roland was about to speak up about the mention of the cheetah he knew, but the blue dragoness cut him off. "He's still alive?!"

"W-we passed him maybe an hour ago," the hurt cheetah said. "We have to keep going and we don't have time to escort you children to Midrun, s-so we'll let you go. Go east and you'll find a path. Follow it to Midrun. If you hurry up, maybe you'll find him. H-he's on his way there."

Roland nodded. "Alright. Thanks!"

The cheetah duo jogged off, minding the dreadwing, and sheathed their weaponry, one pulling herbs from a bag he carried on his back. They sort of seemed like they'd wanted to get away from him. He didn't blame them, considering he was wandering the wild with a _dreadwing_.

Ashlyn looked quickly to Roland, and then to the hills in front of him.

"Let's get going," she said. "We still have a couple days' travel before we reach Midrun. Maybe we'll find him at night, when they set up camp – _if_ they set up camp, that is."

Roland nodded and into the wilderness beyond Firemore they moved, in search of the cheetah and the dragoness by his side.


	14. Off the Beaten Path

Off the Beaten Path

Sure, Roland loved watching the stars and gazing into the moonlit distance – he could say he was used to it. But he'd never lain in a lush field of grass in the middle of the night before. It was a whole new experience to him. He could've if he'd wanted to, but he wouldn't have if he hadn't been forced to, as he had now.

Despite his lack of sleep, he hadn't been feeling very tired – not enough to doze off, anyway. Instead, he was fascinated by the little glowing bugs flittering around him, blue lights like sparkling sapphires, distracting him from his thoughts of Ashlyn. They were attracted by the firelight beside him. The embers glistened and faded around the bugs. Ashlyn had made a campfire at the request of Roland, who helped her gather the sticks and leaves necessary. She was worried; he could tell when her eyes studied the hills around them, but she couldn't make out the blue monster she was searching for. At this point, Roland felt safe that they'd gotten away from him.

He still wondered about his friends, though. He was anxious to see if they were okay. Apparently the guards they'd passed had seen a few young dragons, and even if that could've been anyone, he wanted to believe that was them. He wasn't ready to mourn their deaths if he didn't even know they were dead. If he got to Midrun and they weren't there, he'd...

Well, he knew they would be there. They _had_ to be. Roland didn't know what he would do if he couldn't at the very least find Myrtle.

He'd be stuck with Ashlyn. He still didn't know how to feel. His mind screamed at him to hate her, to loathe everything she stood for. She'd _killed_ Carolin. She'd brought him out here, destroyed Firemore and everything he knew.

But he knew those thoughts were too harsh. She'd never had much of a choice...

It could've ended up so differently. If they'd talked about it. Maybe if he hadn't been so mad.

He felt something stab at his gut, a blade of guilt. They could've solved _all_ of this before it turned to the shit storm it had now. And when he thought about it like this, he felt just as responsible for it as Ashlyn and her father.

His face sorrowed and he rolled to his side, grass brushing against his facial scales and paws. If he hadn't been as fuelled by rage. If he'd understood...

Roland shivered. He'd never done anything good. All he'd ever done was cause misery and pain for his own gain.

Who was he?

 _What_ was he? Was he but tinder for the blaze that swept across Firemore?

That was all he was, wasn't it? Seemingly so unimportant, yet so crucial. Terrible...

Fires... He saw white eyes. He couldn't stop shaking. His head hurt.

"Roland?" Ashlyn's voice interrupted him, and he stopped moving in an instant. The pain ceased swiftly. "A-are you okay?"

He rolled over and put on a small smile. "Yeah, just fine. Nothing to worry about."

"Are you cold?" she asked. "If you are, I can't really feel it myself. I'm an ice dragoness."

"Just a little. It's not that bad." He tightened the scarf around his neck. "This scarf makes it bearable."

"I guess that's why you asked for a fire..."

The air fell silent. Roland stared into the tiny blaze she'd created, toes picking at grass and winter debris. He wondered if it would start snowing. The northern parts of the Dragon Realms weren't known for their snowfall and blizzards, not like Dante's Freezer.

The fire. The black smoke. The milky eyes.

What were they? Why did he have such thoughts?

Were they trying to warn him? If they were, it wasn't a very good warning. They didn't even tell him what to be wary of.

He tapped his skull with a knuckle. What could these visions _mean_?

The fire was his hometown being destroyed, that he was sure of. But what about the black and white? What of the eyes that haunted his mind and brought him agony? Did they belong to Drevon?

Was it all just a coincidence? Was it rooted in his deepest fears, losing everything?

He didn't know he would ever find out. Even if he desired to, a part of him told him he shouldn't be seeking the answer. It told him he should be running away from it all before he was caught in a net.

He grabbed a little stick and poked the fire with it. It rejoiced, if only slightly, in the feeling of fuel. He swore he could see all of Firemore reflected inside the flames, like staring through a pane of glass. Ashlyn sat on the other side, the fire reflected in her guilty eyes.

She did say he'd taken the loss of his hometown pretty well, but he couldn't stop hurting. His entire treasure hoard was gone, the city he called his playground... Even his writing had probably burnt, and when he realised that, he felt his breath catch in his throat. Thankfully, he remembered most of what was there, having always stared at it when he entered his room.

But all those people... And having to kill one of his own kin.

Roland tried to ignore it, bottle it all away. He kept those emotions in and held himself high. There was only one thing to do and that was move on. He'd find Drevon, help him get rid of that darkness if it was still there, find his friends, and they'd travel to Warfang. That was his plan anyway. He'd heard Firemore was similar to Warfang. He'd feel like he never left the ruins of the city behind.

And then maybe he could get to work improving his life. Maybe he could go to school. Maybe the owner of the orphanage wouldn't be such a freaky hag. Maybe he could make some new friends. It was a lot to think about, but he decided thinking of all these good things was a better use of his time than focusing on the negatives and what had happened.

For now, he lay on the grass, far from the pathways. Ashlyn hadn't felt safe on them and so they both deviated from them, just for this night. They'd be walking along them again in the morning, hopefully finding Harper and Tristana. He'd asked Ashlyn why she wanted to go elsewhere, but he knew the answer already. She wanted to be as _far_ from Aurus as possible, while also heading to Midrun. Roland hoped they wouldn't see him again.

Was he coming the same way as them? If so, Roland hoped he would pass them.

Stupid, stupid... Why did he go with her? He was just going to end up being found by him, and then he'd have that problem on his paws.

...No, she knew what she was doing. That much was obvious. Plus, alone and naïve to the dangers of the outside world, he'd probably be killed out here by some wild animal. He didn't want to end up like Harper's little boy, in the maw of some enraged killer.

Roland sat up, shaking loose grass from his scales. He turned to Ashlyn. The dragoness looked about, uneasy, and occasionally turned her eyes to the fire again. Her head was held high, constantly watching. It was obvious she didn't feel particularly comfortable.

"We _can_ get rid of the fire if you want," he said a few seconds of watching her later. "It's not like it's _that_ cold. I just wanted a bit of light and warmth, but it's making you feel on edge."

"N-no, it's okay, I-I'm just watching for animals."

Roland shook his head. The fire wasn't big but he knew he was stupid he'd even asked for one. He was surprised she'd accepted his request. Maybe she didn't want him to feel bad.

"Alright, I'm putting it out." Stamping his paw into it a few times did the trick. The darkness didn't approach, however, for the glow bugs hovering around the hill they sat on already lit the area. Ashlyn didn't complain. "I'm just making it easier for us to be found by something."

She let out a short sigh of relief, but it sounded upset at the same time. He felt a little bored waiting by himself for morning so they could keep jogging after Harper, so he wandered over to Ashlyn and sat a few metres from her. Fluffy's form was a dark silhouette, shadowed by the tree he hung on. The thick branch threatened to snap under his weight, but Fluffy didn't care much. The dreadwing's yellow eyes shone, watching the area like Ashlyn was.

Ashlyn looked at Roland briefly, then, when he caught her stare, she averted her gaze to the grass.

"I'm afraid of him, too," Roland said. "But we're out here now, far from the path, in the middle of the wild. Considering that, I think he'll never find us out here. We probably walked another two kilometres before we stopped. And even if we do see him, we have Fluffy to scare him off. Don't we, Fluffy?"

Fluffy wriggled a bit, but didn't answer, focused on his goal of watching the perimeter. Roland shrugged.

"Fluffy would see him from miles away, anyway. We have nothing to worry about, Ashlyn. But if anything I do makes you feel uneasy, tell me."

"That's... pretty funny coming from you, Roland."

He frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Do I make you feel uneasy, Roland?"

Roland sat there for a long time, watching the coals smoulder, before he answered. "I don't know."

She opened her muzzle, but her tongue didn't make a noise. She accepted that as she closed it.

"I just..." he started. "I'm trying, Ashlyn. You know what I mean. I'm... confused."

Ashlyn leaned back against her tree. "I-I understand." Her head drooped slowly. Her words were small, no more than a hiss of wind. "I'm a terrible person..."

He didn't want to believe that. What she'd done was... horrific. Carolin was dead because of her. But inside there was good and he knew it. She'd never wanted this. He stuck around not only because he felt forced to, or else die in the wild, but because he wanted to see that good in her.

He was beginning to blame himself for all of it, too.

"I think everything could've been handled better," he said. "Maybe if I'd been calm about the whole situation, we could've sorted it out."

"You were understandably angry. I took her. That's on me. I did that. I was stupid."

"And I just let it happen..." Roland lost the calmness in his voice. "I'm no different from... n-nevermind."

She understood him, nodding. He didn't even see an inch of hurt on her face. Like she expected it. As if she deserved it.

"I-I didn't mean it like... ugh." He _did_ mean it like that. He definitely did. And now he felt even worse.

"It's fine. I deserve it anyway."

Roland prodded the ground with the twig in his paw. Usually he was one for conversation, but he didn't know where to take this at all. The air of unease surrounding the two dragons made it harder to think of a talking point.

Somehow, the timid blue dragoness thought of something, bringing their conversation back to the fire. "I do prefer the fire out, just so you know. The death hounds come towards it. They're attracted to those little glowing bugs you see around us, and the bugs like the light of the fire. The hounds will dig around for them, and gobble them up like there's no tomorrow."

"Dogs eating bugs? That's new to me." He'd learnt something new today. And maybe had a thought to make their conversation more light-hearted. "And if we _are_ attacked by a death hound, don't worry. I'll be your knight in... smelly armour."

Ashlyn smiled at the last part. "I mean, after you try those bugs, you'd see why they're crazy for them. If you roast them just right, they're really nice..."

He felt queasy at just the thought of eating bugs. Sour apples and now insects? What _didn't_ she eat? "I am officially disgusted. Yuck."

"W-well, when you find yourself out in the middle of nowhere with nothing else to eat, you'd probably eat them too!" she exclaimed.

Thinking of food did make him feel hungry, though. It'd been a while since he'd eaten an actual meal. He didn't usually eat meals anyway, but what he would do for a well-done piggle steak right about now. His stomach groaned for sustenance at the thought.

"I hope we get to Midrun soon," he told her. He opened his satchel, futilely searching for nourishment inside. Of course, there was always the remaining spirit gem, but with the dull ache of gem burn in his wings, he'd rather not consume it. While safe and useful in situations where food wasn't an option, swallowing the crystals didn't sate hunger much. It would take hundreds of crushed spirit gems to fill a gut, and by that point he'd probably explode. He did have some curiosity, because he didn't know _how_ he would explode, considering his lack of an element. He wasn't curious enough to try, though.

"If you're feeling hungry, there's... always the bugs." She pointed to them. "Plus, it'd also get rid of them."

Roland shook his head and narrowed his gaze. "I'd rather eat those apples."

"Maybe we could've picked some more," she said. "Oh well."

He put a paw to his stomach and went to lying back down on the grass. The glow bugs were beginning to scramble away from each other now that the fire had been stamped out. Their source of light was disappearing. It was only the moons from high above giving them the glow that made Ashlyn's face just barely visible. The only other lights, if you could call them that, were Fluffy's golden eyes, faintly illuminating his face. If Roland hadn't know the dreadwing was there, he would've been frightened by those jagged, shining eyes. They always seemed so... angry. A vicious beast he sat with, pacified by the red dragon's presence for whatever reason.

Fluffy shifted on his branch and eventually hopped off. He paced around impatiently, searching, until he set his eyes on something. He moved past Roland, starting a jog down the hillside.

"Where are you going, Fluffy?" Roland questioned. Fluffy didn't look back, off to check on whatever he'd observed. The red dragon tried to follow him for a moment, and it was only then that the dreadwing turned back, growling. He raised his wings a little in fright and retraced his steps to his position on the ground. "Well... o-okay then. Go do whatever you have to do."

The dreadwing accepted that for an answer and padded away into the grasslands. Roland itched his head, then sat back down. He watched the large creature disappear from view.

It was a minute later when the grass rustled with movement. It wasn't from wind and certainly wasn't from Fluffy, that Roland was sure of. He stared hard into the long grass, sitting upright. Ashlyn noticed it, too, but she wasn't startled by the noise whatsoever. It happened to be right in front of her.

"Oh, hey," Ashlyn whispered. "It's a featherfox."

"A what?"

"A featherfox," she repeated. Roland studied the grass more, and saw a tiny white fox head through the blades. It curiously eyed the blue dragoness with beady eyes, who peered down onto its small frame. "Think birds, but with a wisperfur's head. They're not shy like birds, either. They'll come up and take a good look at you, probably because they have no natural predators in these parts."

He knew of the wisperfurs, snow foxes that lived deep in Dante's Freezer and the Weeping Wilds beyond that. They were the only creature, apart from the goldhorns – southern deer-folk – and the ice dragons, that could live there without freezing to death. In spite of the name giving the impression their fur was wispy and light, it provided unfathomable resistance to the cold. Roland suspected it wasn't just the fur giving that effect.

"Also, they're really tasty," she continued. "If only there were more around..."

"You're gonna kill it?" He managed to get a little closer to it. Not in the slightest did it know the fate it was about to meet. It chirped happily.

She frowned at his response, though. "Of course. Why wouldn't – oh, yeah, you haven't really been outside the city. Y-yes, I am. It's a thing my mum showed me. When we were all travelling to Warfang for the first time from Shimmervale, my mum showed me how easy it was."

Roland didn't care much for its approaching demise. Maybe if it was cuter to look at he would've cared a smidgen, but if the tiny morsel was as delectable as Ashlyn said it was, then he didn't think he'd mind. They'd just have to pluck the feathers and rip away all the bad parts. Or, well, that was what he assumed Ashlyn would show him.

The featherfox bounced closer towards Ashlyn, and before it knew what was happening, she snatched its tiny body up in her claws. Not a moment later, she snapped the neck of the poor creature. It squeaked before there was silence. Roland visibly swallowed when its life ended, shocked by how brutal it was. He'd seen far worse, though. At least the featherfox wouldn't have felt much pain.

At least it wasn't a dragon...

Ashlyn cocked her head, already plucking the feathers from the creature. "Y-you... don't seem like you liked that."

"Oh, no, it's fine," he said, putting a paw up. "I've watched piggle be carved up before. That's much worse."

"Where would you go to watch _that_?" She frowned at his words.

"There was a restaurant in Firemore called _The Abattoir._ They had a section where they cut their meat right in the centre of the place. The feral dragons overseas loved that kind of thing. It was a tourist attraction. It's probably the only place I've ever seen a manticore, too."

"I never saw it." She'd finished removing the inedible bits from the featherfox already. Her paws were stained with the creature's blood, but she happily licked them clean. She looked at the morsel for a few moments before tossing it Roland's way. He fumbled it in his paws.

"You don't want any?" He lifted it from the ground, brushing away the grass stuck to it. He'd never seen a fresh chunk of meat so close before. It didn't look anything like the creature she'd pulled apart a minute ago, its legs and head removed. It was, in fact, still bleeding. She must've been an expert, doing it so fast.

"N-no, it's okay. I'm not that hungry."

The sight made him a little ill and he would've preferred it cooked, but it would suffice. Minding the needle-like bones, he sank his fangs into its flesh. It had a taste very similar to chicken, and that left him satisfied. Unlike the blood of the dragon he'd been forced to swallow earlier, the small creature's was unusually tasty. This was probably what those feral dragons enjoyed, always ordering their meat completely raw. He couldn't blame them, and even if the featherfox was chewy, he could add it to a list of things he knew he needed to eat again. He hoped they were abundant across the Dragon Realms.

Ashlyn leaned her head against the bark of the tree behind her, breathing a soundless sigh. She then brought her body to the ground, putting her head in a paw, as if in thought. She gave the stars above a look and changed the subject a minute later.

"So much for going to bed early tonight, huh?" Ashlyn leaned against the thick oak tree, clenching the grass.

He yawned. "I didn't feel tired before, but all this talking's made me weary. I think I –"

"Hey! Look out!"

The new feminine tone almost made him jump out of his scales. "Huh–"

The deafening crack of gunfire sent a spike of pain jolting through his ear holes. Something zinged through the air and met its target with a bang. He scrambled away from the fiery glow of an E.F.'s ammunition. Yet another metallic bolt careened through the air and met the charred hide of a black and brown death hound right behind him. The hound yelped in pain, fur smouldering with the remains of an elemental bullet. The echo of a dreadwing's scream filled his ears.

He watched with shock as the hound fell to the ground, bleeding from the heart. The glow of fire on its fur faded with its life.

Paws scampered and boots sprinted towards the red dragon. He had no idea what was going on, eyes flicking across everything in sight. Ashlyn, who he saw briefly, didn't move a muscle, eyes focused on the death hound that she hadn't seen approaching him. Roland rubbed his eyes, and finally he met the gaze of a cheetah wearing a broad hat and light armour embroidered with the phoenix of Firemore, covered by a hooded coat as black as the sky. A long rifle was clutched tightly in his paws, a thin plume of smoke trailing from the barrel.

"Roland!" Harper exclaimed, panting. "F-fancy seeing you here!"

"W-what's going on!?" The red dragon couldn't fathom the events that'd happened in seconds. "W-wha–"

"There's no time to explain!" the female voice yelled. He recognised it as Tristana, the yellow dragoness he'd met a while ago. From her maw a bolt of lightning shot into the darkness, colliding with another of the death hounds behind them, electrocuting not only the hound but the blue glowing flies that illuminated their black fur. Roland scrambled to his feet, and so did Ashlyn. Behind them was a pack of angered death hounds, growling, slobbering like the beasts they were. Their yellow eyes glinted in the darkness. "We need to go! There's more lurking about here!"

"O-okay!?" he shouted back. Confused, anxious, and scared, he ran into the night, following the cheetah's black coat flapping in the wind.

* * *

Roland clutched the crumbling brickwork behind him with his hind legs for long after he'd escaped the pursuing death hounds. His chest heaved with exhaustion and fright. The blue dragoness watched around the corner of the wall for any sign of the hounds, yet they never came forth. Harper set himself down on the grass of the broken building they were inside. Tristana stared at the point between her claws and the ground, eyes closed. Sparks flickered at her feet, until they turned into a gently crackling ball of lightning, illuminating the shattered walls and smashed windows of the devastated cottage.

When another minute had passed, he felt he could sit down and relax. He settled himself into the grass, looking at the cheetah and the dragoness beside him. They both peered back, confused on where to start. It was Harper who finally said something, slinging the rifle over his shoulder

"It's good to see you survived, Roland. I had no doubts you would," Harper said. "And you too, Ashlyn."

Ashlyn turned at the use of her name and set herself down. The perimeter was clear. She had no need to watch, no need to stare across the world like the yellow eyes of Fluffy. Roland wondered where the dreadwing had gone. He'd heard him screech at something... Was it the death hounds? Did Fluffy know they were there long before he?

"I see you're sporting a new scar as well." Harper chuckled softly. "It seems fresh."

He touched his right eye again, forgetting it had been there. It was deep and the skin beneath the scales hadn't healed properly yet. Scars were often reminders of mistakes and of fierce battle. A dragon should be proud to have one. But he had no clue what this was from. Roland could tell by the shape that it wasn't a very pretty one, either.

"It feels like it's been forever since I saw you, Ash..." Tris muttered, focused more on the sphere in her paws. Ashlyn smiled weakly. Roland pieced together that if Ashlyn had known the cheetah, she probably knew his adopted daughter as well.

"Y-yeah. It's a shame we meet again in... these circumstances." Ashlyn stepped on the ground a few times and brought her stomach down. "And it's good to see you too, Harper."

Harper rested his back against a wall of the cottage, briefly studying the protruding beams and wrecked thatch above them. "Would you mind explaining how you both survived? We have seen some others heading towards Midrun, but, unfortunately most of the populace was slaughtered in that explosion."

Roland merely shrugged. "I... don't know how. I just woke up and there I was, in the middle of the street."

"M-me, too," Ashlyn lied. Roland gave her an unnoticeable frown, but he figured that her desires didn't extend to explaining everything again. Plus, it wouldn't help anyone if the truth was split now. She'd had a hard enough time with that before, and considering Harper hadn't ever experienced anything Roland had with her, he completely understood. She'd tell a lie now and explain later. He saw no problem in that as long as she didn't leave it for too long.

"And what of your father, Ashlyn? Did he survive?"

"I... don't know," she said. "How about you? How did you make it out?"

Harper nodded, setting a rucksack he carried with him to the side. "I owe you an explanation for how I found you as well, but I will get to that. Tristana and I were in our cellar when it happened. She was helping me rearrange my bottle collection into alphabetical order."

"And then it happened. We couldn't find anyone." Tristana's voice was quiet, as if it hurt to speak, a change from the cheerful attitude she'd had until the end of his visit. It was probably the nerves from the encounter with the death hounds and the terror from losing her home. Roland felt immediately sorry for her. She'd lived a good life in Firemore and that had been stolen away from her. She moved towards Harper, and when the cheetah looked beside him, he wrapped an arm around her.

"We didn't lose too much, fortunately," Harper explained, "at least nothing important. Our house wasn't affected much, neither were any on Firespark or on the left wing of the city, but you can't stay around that magic. I have most of our important belongings secured in this bag. As for how we found you in the nick of time, we noticed the glow bugs atop a hill and wondered if someone had made a fire. It turned out it was the two of you."

"Well, there you go," Roland said. He gave the cheetah a small smile. "Thanks for that. I'd be dog food if not for you. Your gun scared the shit out of me, though."

The barrel was still tinted with orange from the heat. "They call this one a suppressor, but it makes more noise than any weapon I've ever seen. Perhaps it's broken, or maybe it's a joke about being able to suppress _people_ with its noise. It works, though, and I can't complain. I could've bought the M33 model instead, however..."

"Don't get started on guns, Harper. You'll never stop." Tristana's joke was supposed to lighten the mood, but her voice was too low be picked up by anyone. Roland wondered who she'd lost in the blast. She went to one of the academies in Firemore, obviously... All the friendships she'd made? Her teachers? Losing a family was enough torment for a child to bear, but Roland understood completely the feeling of being forever deprived of the life they both once lived.

She didn't deserve this at all, and he felt he played a part in turning what she held dear to ruin.

"So, how did you two meet?" Harper grabbed the sword by his side and set it on the ground next to him, and finally took his broad hat off, happy to be free of the weight. Roland could see a dagger concealed by his side still; however, it wasn't like it weighed as much as the thick broadsword.

"In the sewers," Roland replied. He didn't want to give away all the details. He wanted to respect Ashlyn's desires. "She came to me."

"Ah, so that's where you stayed. And that would also mean that you, Ashlyn, must've run away from home. Why would you do that?"

The ice dragoness scratched her head. "Oh, n-no, I didn't run away. I was just exploring, and then I met Roland, and he took me there."

"Exactly. You're not a bad thief." Roland didn't know how good he was at telling lies, but this sounded believable enough. Harper just casually shook his head.

"Stealing? Your father would be ashamed." His voice did have good humour to it, but in some way, Harper was disappointed in her. Ashlyn uncomfortably shifted in her position. "He was a good man. One of the best guards I knew. I hope he made it out alright."

Roland coughed at the response. Harper cocked his head.

"Are you alright, Roland? Feeling ill?"

"Y-yeah, I'm fine." The red dragon sat up. Ashlyn's nervous gaze met his, but she was thankful he was playing along with her. "Something caught in my throat."

The run-down cottage fell silent, except for the occasional creak of loose boards in the breeze. Somehow this house still stood. Roland tried to ponder the things that may have caused it to fall into this state of disrepair. He suspected that there was a second floor to this place once, but most of the boards above had cracked and fallen away. Maybe it was just age that had brought around its death. He stared at the chipped white paint on the walls and thought he saw it still slowly peeling, life draining away.

A strong gust of air met the scales atop his head. He looked up to find Fluffy descending upon the cottage. The dreadwing squeezed through a gaping hole in the thatch and landed with a thud on the floor, bringing loose timber down with him. Roland wasn't too surprised, but he heard both Harper and Tristana scramble backwards and gasp in shock.

"Roland!" Harper fumbled the rifle slung over his back. "Look out!"

Roland shook his head vigorously. "No, don't worry! He's friendly! Don't shoot!"

The barrel of the E.F. shook in Harper's paws, staring the beast down. Fluffy curiously cocked his head.

"F-f-friendly!?" Harper exclaimed. The ball of thunder in Tris' paws disappeared while lightning started crackling in her mouth.

"What do you mean _friendly_!?" she shouted at him. "That thing will rip you apart!"

"Not this one!" Roland replied. "Right, Ashlyn? He saved both of us."

"H-he's not wrong!" Ashlyn got up and stood in front of the barrel of Harper's gun. Harper lowered it quickly, not wanting to accidentally pull the trigger and unleash a fiery bullet upon her as if she were one of those death hounds. "It doesn't want to hurt us."

Fluffy growled silently to himself, sensing the tension in the air. He followed Roland's commands to a T, however, not instigating violence of any kind. Roland glanced at the dreadwing and grinned weakly.

"These are friends, Fluffy." He petted the beast softly on the neck. The growling was subdued, replaced by a low but heartwarming purr he didn't expect out of the flesh-devouring monster. "You understand that, right? _Friends._ "

Fluffy nodded slowly, but his focus was centred on Roland's paw rubbing up and down the length of his neck. Roland scratched the skin beneath the woolly mane. The dreadwing kicked his hind leg on the ground, throat vibrating with his purr.

Harper didn't let go of the weapon clasped in his paws and his quivering didn't cease, but he appeared to be far more baffled than anxious over the encounter now. "H-how do you... _know_ this _monster_? Did you tame it?"

"I didn't really do anything," Roland said, letting go. Fluffy whimpered. "Fluffy just saw me and instantly liked me. He wanted me for some reason and that's what I'm trying to figure out. I'm not insane. I was as freaked out as you are when I first met him, and frankly I still kind of am. He's no more than a huge dog, though."

Tris adopted a neutral stance, going back to summoning the ball of lightning in her paw. The crepitating electricity in her maw fizzled away. "I... don't want to be anywhere near that thing."

"That's understandable." Roland set himself down once again, hoping the mood had calmed. The monstrous creature set himself directly behind Roland, cuddling up against him. Roland spat mouthfuls of thick, unkempt fur from his mouth. "So... what about this cottage, huh? Pretty weird seeing it out in the middle of nowhere, off the beaten path."

"Th-there used to be a cheetah settlement here," Harper said, voice still shaking. Roland thought he saw fire in those eyes of his, but it was passing. If he had, he couldn't figure out why Harper would be angered. He felt stupid for his inability to read his expression. "This would've been the chieftain's cottage. Surprisingly, it still stands. All of this would've been raided by the Dark Army long ago. Cheetahs don't live in tribes anymore, at least not throughout the Dragon Realms. I'm shocked none of this has been cleaned up. You can still see bits and bobs laying about."

Roland peered through the cracks in the walls. The half moons outside didn't provide enough light to make the remnants of this village visible. He'd end up seeing them when he got a move on towards Midrun.

"Are you going to head with us, Harper?" Ashlyn didn't look like she wanted to leave for the town east of them without the cheetah. With his mastery of the blade and gun alike, he would prove a valuable asset, and he probably knew more about the wilderness than any of them sitting here. The big cats were generally drawn to nature and, in some cultures, Roland knew it was tradition to send young cats out for a year by themselves to learn to survive. Maybe not so much now, for the signing of the Treaty of the Great Twelve united them and other races in the newly formed Warfang. Harper probably hadn't been through traditional methods, but guard classes probably taught him a lot.

"It is far safer to travel in numbers," he said. "And I am inclined to say yes. After what we saw this night, I know now that the Dragon Realms are infested with shadowspawn. That pack was gigantic. I can't leave you two by yourselves, or else I break the Copper Code."

Roland knew of the Copper Code, an oath made by guards and Guardians, swearing to protect all and to never fail those who they chose to protect, or have their honour destroyed, but what in the name of the Ancestors were shadowspawn? From the look on Roland's face, Harper could probably tell that Roland had no idea what he spoke of. Ashlyn peered in curiosity as well, but it seemed like Tris had already heard the name.

"Before all this, I was digging around in the old archives in the Library of the Phoenix. I found some old texts that showed me the name, shadowspawn, and listed off unnatural creatures birthed from shadow magic and, more prominently, dark aether. That monster behind you is one, and so are death hounds. They're not like normal creatures that eat plants or meat or what have you, but instead they feast on magic. They also don't give birth to their own young, which is odd for they do have a sex..."

"Maybe they... do it for fun?" Roland suggested, a goofy smile growing on his maw.

"Inappropriate, Roland," Harper scolded, "but you might not be incorrect. Wild beasts don't take pleasure in... _pleasure_ , but it does seem the only likely answer."

"I don't need to hear about dreadwing mating." Tris wasn't all too impressed with her adoptive father, but she did allow a smile on her maw. It was good to see one from her, and that was exactly Roland's intention, to get a grin out of somebody. Fluffy just tilted his head, and when the electric dragoness gave him a look, she giggled softly. "You know, that thing _is_ kind of cute if it's not trying to eat you, Roland, even if it does smell like wet dog times a thousand."

"Stay far away from it." Harper shook his head, releasing the dragoness beside him from his grip. Her eyes dipped. "It might look friendly now, but–"

"It's completely _harmless_ ," Roland reaffirmed. "Trust me, he won't hurt a fly. As long as the flies are us. He's proved himself to be useful already, saving me and Ashlyn, and I don't doubt he'll kick more arse in the future."

"Pffft, you don't need a dreadwing when you have _my_ lightning." Tris proudly held the little ball of lightning in a paw. "

Roland merely laughed at her. "You sound cocky. What _can_ you do, Tris?"

"Beat you to a pulp and fry your insides."

"...Nah, I think I can take you on."

"Without an element?"

"The element of surprise, obviously."

"Enough, you two," Harper exclaimed, throwing both arms to the side. "You'll wake up the death hounds with that ruckus."

"S-sorry, Harper..." The shame on Tris' face saddened Roland. It was obvious Tristana looked up to him. He opened his mouth to mutter a few insulting words, but Ashlyn beat him to speaking.

"It's all in good fun. Plus, they're not being that loud..."

It was clear she'd listened to him earlier. He was glad she understood a joke when she saw one.

"No nonsense, please." The cheetah moved his steel blade aside and lay on the floor of the cottage. "It's late, so I suggest you all get some sleep. Somebody will have to stay up and keep a look out for any death hounds, and I haven't gotten any sleep recently."

"Fluffy does a good job," Roland said. "I don't think he even falls asleep."

"You know what? Never mind. I'll do it." Harper leaped to his feet and jumped to a beam in the middle of the room that would've once held the cottage up. His claws stuck to the rotting wood and he clambered upwards, swiftly, to the roofing. "Goodnight," he called from above. "I'll awaken one of you in a few hours."

Roland waited a few seconds for him to settle down before finally uttering the words he'd restrained in his mouth. "What a killjoy..."

"Harper's pretty... no-nonsense, unless he makes a joke himself," Tris whispered back. "But he's right. We should get some sleep. Night, Roland." She waddled off to a corner and brought her body to the ground. Ashlyn got his attention with a wave of her paw.

"Goodnight. I'll see you in the morning."

He nodded before crouching down himself. He had a big day tomorrow. It wasn't far to Midrun, only a few miles following the great Faymaw drifting through the Amory Grasslands. He got excited thinking about the friends he _knew_ he would see there. That thought was what kept him going. Those thieves were cunning. If they could make it out of a failed heist, they could get through that explosion. Plenty of people had survived, according to those two guards a while ago.

He knew they were amongst them somewhere. They had to be...


	15. Midrun

Midrun

A tap on the red dragon's wing woke him from his slumber. His heavy eyes met Harper's yellow as he lifted his head.

"Up you get, Roland. It's your turn to take watch."

Roland slumped backwards, horns brushing against the ground. He felt as if the weight of eternity were sitting on his shoulders. His exhaustion seemed to know no bounds. He felt as though he were dying of sleep deprivation.

"Do I _have_ to?" he asked, rolling onto his side. "I think I could just go... back... to..."

"Roland." Harper's voice startled him from falling unconscious again. "It won't be for very long. All you need to do is sit up on the roof for a few hours and make sure nothing suspicious approaches us. I think we'll be safe in here, but I don't want to take any chances. It's not a strenuous task."

"It is if you feel like _dying_." He got up, stretching his limbs. He let out something akin to a yawn and a groan, the dull pain in his wings familiar, having not calmed from gem burn yet. Each pop in his joints was more gratifying than the last, but it didn't make the weariness any better. He blinked a couple times, then rubbed the sleep from his eyes. "But alright. Whatever. Fluffy _can_ do it, but I guess I might as well get used to it..."

The dreadwing was sitting right behind him, still wide awake, never closing his eyes; he ran his forked tongue across the talons on his wings, grooming himself. Now Roland was beginning to notice that Fluffy didn't sleep at all. Maybe shadowspawn didn't require it. He wouldn't be shocked. This monster was already a peculiar thing, what with its fear-inducing magic and hundreds of teeth.

"It would do you well to get rid of that _thing_ , Roland," Harper said. "Don't be so blind. And don't start fondly nicknaming it."

"Fluffy is _fine_." Roland smiled a little. "Aren't you, Fluffy?"

Fluffy lowered his head instinctively so Roland could reach up and itch the blue skin beneath his grey coat. Roland could find himself growing used to the purr softly vibrating against the pad of his paw. For something very dissimilar to a cat, it did have a lot of cat-like tendencies.

"You seem to have forgotten what happened in the market square." Harper folded his arms and looked down upon the young dragon sternly. Roland did remember, but he only lifted a brow.

"Of course I remember," he responded. "But not all animals are the same. You sound pretty racist, Harper. Racist against dreadwings."

"Oh, stuff it." Harper wandered off, adjusting the sword sheathed by his side. Roland eyed its hilt for a few seconds. "There's nothing I can do."

Roland shrugged, then looked at the roof. He waited a minute for Harper to swiftly doze off before crouching down and leaping into the air. He flapped his wings once.

He'd forgotten about the ache of gem burn coursing like a winding stream through the veins in his wings. Ungracefully, he fell, bumbling about before he regained his balance.

"Ow..." Roland studied the hole in the thatch above and wondered how in the Ancestors he was supposed to get up without hurting himself. He was a good climber, that he was sure of, but there was nothing to hold onto, and he used his wings to launch himself higher when required. His legs didn't have the physical strength required to hoist his body up the oaken pillar in the centre of the cottage.

"Well, this fucking sucks..." He hadn't taken any of it into account. He'd always relied on his wings, but they were temporarily out of the question. And he didn't want to go back and tell Harper that he couldn't get up and disturb the already annoyed cheetah from the rest he was having. He was too stubborn to let up.

"I heard the conversation," Ashlyn said from behind him. Her face was a bleak outline in the dark, but he thought he saw a weak smile on her face. "I could do it if you want."

"No, it's fine. I'll find a way up."

"I could... carry you up." Her voice was quick and quiet, like she didn't trust her own suggestion. Such a thing sounded dangerous, but Roland was versed quite well in danger. He snickered at the words.

"That's not a bad idea. It just depends if you're okay with wrapping your paws around smelly old me."

"I-I don't mind. You don't smell that bad." She ascended, hovering in place above him. A few moments later he took a peek at her, wondering what was taking her so long. Her paws were right above his back, but she didn't seem to know how to go about lifting him. Maybe she thought it would be weird wrapping her legs around him, like it was some kind of embrace. "U-um, I..."

"Come on," he urged her. He wanted to go back to sleep, but now he had determination to reach the top and see if they could make this work. She lowered her paws and then withdrew them. She did it several times. "By the time you pick me up, we'll already be leaving for Midrun..."

"I-I don't know where to grab you without dropping you!" Ashlyn finally took her paws back, awkwardly pressing them together. The dreadwing behind them grunted curiously at what they were trying to achieve. It was that noise that gave Roland a different, less embarrassing idea.

"Because you're too embarrassed to touch a boy, why don't I just use Fluffy?" he told her. Ashlyn froze at the words and didn't seem like she knew what to say. He released another low laugh. He knew he was cheeky, and especially loved how Ashlyn reacted to it.

Fluffy raised his head inquisitively at the mention of his nickname. Roland nodded at the beast.

"Can you fly me up there, Fluffy?" The dreadwing merely angled his head. A keyword, that was what he needed. "Uh... Fly? Ride?"

Fluffy lowered his back, the weird hunch he had vanishing. Ride was the word, then. He didn't think he'd ever need such a command, for he had his own wings, but the dreadwing would have to suffice for now.

Awkwardly, Roland clambered atop the beast's back, careful where he put his claws so they didn't sink into blue skin, even if they were blunt with disregard. Ashlyn watched him with what he thought was awe, amazement that the monster would allow even this. Once he was on, he clutched the fur. The dreadwing didn't do much, other than stay hunkered down.

"Uh, how do I pilot you? Fly?" From the nothing that Fluffy did, Roland assumed it was a word he didn't know. "What do they say in those books? Yah?"

He felt Fluffy bend down for but a moment before he blasted into the sky, shooting through the hole in the roof. Roland screamed, legs flailing in the wind as he struggled to hold onto the beast. His claws slipped through the oily fur, until he managed to grab onto the dreadwing's leg.

"Woah! Fuck! Stop! STOP!" he yelled over the wind blaring in his ears. The beast did as it was commanded, immediately coming to a halt in the air. Roland shot into the sky, launched like a boulder from a catapult, losing his grip. He flailed before miraculously landing on Fluffy's back again with a painful thud.

He gasped for air, panic flooding his system. He scrambled towards the dreadwing's stout neck and wrapped his legs tightly around it, almost to the point that he could probably suffocate the beast.

"H-holy shit, Fluffy!" He breathed hard, breath catching in his throat. He dared a look down upon the world and realised he was several hundred metres off the ground, the cottage a small, bleary, dark dot below. How fast had he gained altitude?! He'd felt as if his legs were coming off!

"D-down," he exclaimed. He pressed downwards on the dreadwing. "Slow, too."

The dreadwing listened and gently started lowering them both back to land. Roland breathed a loud, relieved sigh.

It was a few seconds before Ashlyn flew to their level, her voice thick with worry. "Are you okay!?"

"Y-y-yeah," he said, shivering. "A-almost died, n-no biggie."

"I... think 'yah' is a bit too fast." She descended with them. The dreadwing eyed her form with some curiosity, but was more focused on following the orders of the red dragon. "I should've carried you. I'm sorry..."

"D-don't be, I-I'm an idiot for suggesting it." He saw the cottage beneath them. He didn't want to let go of the dreadwing's neck just yet, but he didn't know what to say to direct him towards an area. He prepared to jump off and let Fluffy find his way safely into the cottage.

As they approached the thatch, Roland bent down and leaped with all his might, clawing the thatch in an attempt to hold himself up. It ripped slightly, but held the weight of his thin body. He climbed upwards with ease until he reached the point the roof flattened into a trapezium. He half-expected the straw and reeds to snap under him in spite of his weight, but, quite shockingly, it held, and firmly, too.

Fluffy looked up at him through the hole, confused as to why he'd jumped off. "Keep watch, Fluffy. I-I'm okay," he said.

Fluffy raised and lowered his shoulders and went back to staring through the holes and crevices in the cottage, keeping an eye out for predators. Roland watched him settle down before treading across to the edge of the roof, taking a seat on the thatch, minding anything that seemed like it could snap and fall. Ashlyn landed beside him, about a metre away.

"All that trouble just to get on a damn roof," he muttered about a minute later.

From the rooftop, he watched the rising hills and the gaping Faymaw not far north, just barely visible from his high position. Keeping watch for approaching assailants wouldn't prove to be useful in this light, he realised. It was far too dark to see anything, especially without the superior eyes of a feline, or probably of the dreadwing fond for him.

Maybe he'd be keeping an earhole out for them instead of an eye, then. When it came to the lowest footstep, Roland knew he was perceptive. He could usually make out the wind in the grass from an animal.

Ashlyn guiltily stared at the dirt and ruined wood below them. "Sorry about that... I-I really should've just helped you up here."

"It's okay. It does really hurt to fly, but I could've stopped myself before I hit the ground anyway." He sunk to his stomach, putting his head in a paw. A soft yawn left his lips. "You can go back to bed if you want. You don't need to sit up here."

She shook her head. "No, I haven't really been able to get to sleep. I'm not _that_ tired."

Inquiringly, he looked her in the eyes, and even if she was hardly more than a silhouette, he saw those sunken, black eyes easily enough. "Ashlyn, you look _buggered_. Is something keeping you up?"

An exhausted breath left her mouth, her shoulders slumping. "I... think you can guess."

"...I see." All of this was affecting her deeply, that he could tell. The problems ensnared within his mind were of a similar depressing calibre. Optimism was about all he had left and he used it to the full extent of his ability.

Move on, Roland, he kept telling himself. Move on.

You'll be happy again soon. Just move on...

"I'm really sorry," she said once more.

"You don't have to keep saying that," he replied. "I understand. Everyone's going to be feeling down because of everything. I'm not gonna let it bring me down, and I'm gonna try and stay positive. No point in moping about. Everything'll be good soon. I'll find my friends and we'll all go to Warfang, and then it'll all be happy again."

Her face was set, a grimness to her eyes. "...I'm sure they're there, but what if they aren't?"

Roland had considered the possibility and refused to believe that was the case. He hadn't seen Myrtle. She was _out there_ , and he knew it.

But her question did still bring him pain, and in some ways made him feel ill. Ill because he felt like he was a part of the destruction in Firemore. That, if his friends had passed in the blast, he was responsible for killing the people he regarded as his family.

"I don't know, Ashlyn. But I _know_ they'll be there, I _know_ they're still–"

"Will you hate me?"

That one caught him off-guard. He hadn't even begun to ponder how he would feel about her. Would he, when he felt responsible as well? What was the point in doing that, then? Was there any point at all in detesting her for everything she stood for?

He didn't know. He'd have to wait and see.

But he knew his friends would be there. They'd made it out. He knew the sewers had caved in, but they'd provide enough protection for all of the dragons below the surface of the city. A little falling metal and rock wouldn't have kill them.

"You're allowed to," she said. She sounded so calm about it. Did she think it would be normal to? "It's not wrong. What you're doing for me now isn't warranted."

"I don't know how to answer that question, Ashlyn." He cast a serious look over at her. "Don't even think about that. I know they'll be there. Why don't we talk about something else?"

She turned away. "I don't deserve this..."

"I didn't come up here to listen to you criticise yourself," Roland said, his tone growing harsh. "Stop. _Please_. Let's talk about something happier."

She didn't say anymore, holding those self-loathing words back. It was stupid to say things like that.

Roland knew he was a culprit, too, and he knew he needed to stop as well. Thinking about such things was only going to make the feeling of self-hatred worse, though. It was for the best that they both stop.

His eyes fell to the thatch. He picked at the weaved straw and reeds purposelessly; it was entertaining, if only for a few seconds. He drew one of the many threads loose, letting it float away in the soft breeze.

"What was Carolin like, Roland?"

He knew Ashlyn had become quick friends with her, but that was only to bring about Carolin's trust so she could take her away. Roland could see that she had wanted to truly befriend the dragoness, though. Carolin was kind, even to the despicable. It made sense. But it was clear that Ashlyn didn't know much about her, other than that she was the sister of the purple dragon.

"What can I say that you don't know?" he asked. "She was kind, considerate... childish at times, but she had the biggest heart out of anyone I knew. She was always optimistic, always loving (unless you stole Mr. Fluffles), never a bother to be around... It's safe to say everyone liked her, Ashlyn. We all loved her."

She looked down at the roof, awkwardly shuffling her paws.

"This isn't just another reason to criticise yourself more, is it?"

"N-no," she said. "I'm actually curious... Have you got any stories?"

He grinned slightly. "Boy, do I _ever_. Where do I even start? Well, we used to have this cupboard full of plates and dishes – dunno where it came from, don't ask – and then Cary, she..."

He lost track of the time, telling Ashlyn of stories in the sewers. Her focus on him was almost intense. She was determined to learn about the dragoness and her past. And Roland didn't mind telling her, not one bit. She laughed at every joke he made, grinned at the clumsiness and childishness Carolin had. And towards the end, when he spoke of the good Carolin radiated, a short but warm, genuine smile spread across her maw.

He found that he'd always taken Carolin's presence for granted. He knew she was a nice person, but he'd never had time to stop and think about her like this, and had never been asked. Carolin had meant a lot to the sewers. Roland had never seen her too much, always busy enjoying herself with her big brother, or playing by herself, but she did hold a special place in his heart. She was almost like a little sister to him.

She was like a little sister to all of them. A young, bright spark, always cheerful. She kept their whole family together.

"There was a time when we all sort of threatened to separate," Roland explained. "It was a while ago. I was about twelve at the time. We were really running low on everything. Everyone was mad, and in spite of my best efforts to calm them, they didn't stop. Fights broke out. It was horrible."

Ashlyn tilted her head. "Did Carolin...?"

"Yep. She saved us all, and she was only seven years old." He reminisced the time she'd come along and set everyone straight. If not for her, the guild of thieves beneath Firemore would've separated long ago, and he would've been back to living on the streets. "Cary came along and made it better. She put a stop to all of it and got us back on track. And she didn't really say much, necessarily, she just... made everyone happy. And that was enough. It's what I always strove to do, but she did it effortlessly."

Ashlyn continued to smile, but Roland could see the pain through it. She'd lied about not berating herself, only now she was doing it wordlessly. Her actions _were_ worthy of critique, but that didn't make it enjoyable to listen to, or a good thing to do.

That was hypocritical of him to think, though. He'd done the same recently to Myrtle. It was obvious now that Ashlyn was only trying to cheer him up, to help him remember the times when joy reigned. "She sounds like she was a really good person..."

"She was. I should've thanked her for the things she did, but now I realise I was too focused on myself and everyone's problems to realise what she was doing for us all. I never asked for help."

Ashlyn's eyes scanned the distant horizon. Roland had forgotten he was supposed to be watching his surroundings for death hounds and the like. Pale orange rose over the hills, reflected on Ashlyn's polished scales. It wasn't difficult to spy animals scampering through the grass now, but he didn't foresee anything attacking them.

He saw the remnants of the cheetah village now, just as Harper had told him there would be. Chipped and cracked timber and rock, scattered like withered leaves. Unlike the chieftain's cottage, none of the buildings attacked by the apes of centuries past were left to stand. Why was this one? Perhaps as a sign of their accomplishments, to frighten those standing in their way? He'd never find out, not that he had a desire to.

"What about Drevon?" she asked later. "What was... _is_ he like? I never really got to talk to him."

"He's my best friend," Roland responded. "He's loud and annoying, childish like his sister, but he has a big heart. At least, that's what he was like before all the bullying stuff with Seth happened. I can only imagine what he must be feeling right now."

"Do you blame him for this?"

He shook his head almost immediately. He didn't even hesitate. She seemed surprised by this and he felt the need to elaborate. "No, I don't. He wasn't the one in control. That's a completely separate _thing_ I never want to see again. Drevon would _never_ hurt anyone. That _... parasite_ isn't him."

A gentle nod was the answer he received. He looked up, into the dimming lights. The Ancestors would rest now.

"How did Drevon come about?" she questioned. "To the sewers, I mean. Did you know his parents?"

"I've never seen Drevon's mum and dad before." He put a claw to his chin. "He said they were nice, but they always kept him locked away from the public eye, and they lived where the population was very small. He never went to school or anything. The Guardians managed to pull off a celebration of sorts, but it was really small and nobody came except for a few higher-ups. Word did spread for a little bit, but it didn't reach many ears, and people doubted it because purple dragons are only supposed to be born every ten generations, and it's only been five since the last. I suppose it's for the best that people ended up forgetting."

"It makes sense why they would do that, considering what happened to the other purple dragons," Ashlyn said. "Malefor mongered a very long war, and Spyro was our high-king and ended up going mad. We're lucky Spyro didn't try to start an island-wide war against us all. He could've hurt a lot of people, if not for his elite guard. If anything, his son, Amory, does a much better job... But anyway, I guess being locked in was the reason Drevon decided to run away."

"Yeah, exactly." He remembered the story Drevon told him, of how he smashed through the only window in the house with his sister of five years by his side. "Both he and Carolin grew sick of not being allowed to go anywhere, and how tense it always was inside the house. Drevon had gone out before that, in the middle of the night, but after his parents found out and made sure the door was locked beyond picking, he decided to leave for good. They lived on the streets for a while, found Myrtle, Myrtle introduced them to me and Seth, and then we all went to the sewers. I–"

A sudden streak of grey raced through the sky, spawning and vanishing in nearly an instant, knocking him from his conversation. He frowned, watching the blur fly far past the hills and disappearing over the ocean.

"Did you see that?" He pointed to the thin trail of smoke.

"Yeah, I did. Was it an airship? Like the ones the Skavengers used to use?"

"No, that's too small for an airship, and it moved way too fast," he said. Those scurvy sky-dogs didn't raid the coasts anymore because their fleets were easily shot down with a well-placed cannon and turret fire. Weapons now were far more accurate than they'd ever been. "Nobody uses airships anymore, either. They're too unreliable and nobody's figured out how to perfect the technology. I've heard the moles are working on prototypes for some winged jet-propelled contraption, but that couldn't be it."

"Then I.. have no clue." Her shrug was awkward, a low yawn leaving her mouth. Roland tightened the wool scarf around his neck, waiting for her to speak again. The cold was pervasive. Even if it didn't help a huge deal, he was glad he had the gift Seth gave him before he left. If only clothes could possibly be fashioned for dragons without all their spiky bits tearing up the fabric. Well, dragons did wear loose robes every now and then for special occasions, and armour when heading into battle, but those times were few and far between.

"What kind of creature races through the air, leaving a trail of smoke?" he asked her. "It was grey... Not a wind dragon, surely not."

Roland waited for her answer, but it never came. He looked over and found her head buried deep in her paws, unconscious. He stifled a laugh.

"We'll think about it later." He looked out beyond, then down to the dreadwing scanning the perimeter like some sort of automaton. Eventually, Roland let a smile cross his mouth. A _guilty_ grin, but a grin nonetheless. For some reason, the thought of inadvertently annoying Harper sort of appealed to him now.

They had Fluffy, so they'd be fine. That Roland knew.

"Maybe I'll catch up on some sleep, too..."

* * *

"And this is why I shouldn't trust a child to keep watch for us."

Roland just barely kept his eyes open, listening to the stern lecture Harper was giving him for falling asleep. The cheetah had found him on the roof, snoring into the thatch right next to Ashlyn.

"I should've known better," Harper said, giving the red dragon a frustrated eye. He didn't seem mad, only disappointed in him. Roland, as tired as he was, felt the need to defend his action.

"Yeah, sorry, but I think Fluffy did a fine job anyway." He gestured towards the dreadwing, who was _still_ wide awake. He wouldn't be surprised anymore if it didn't sleep, knowing it was bred from the black, formed with dark aether. The effects of that magic were inherently chaotic. Fluffy could've come out far stranger than he had. He pondered how in the Ancestors that magic worked, the variables behind its effects, the way it reached its conclusion on what to do. It was as though it had a mind of its own.

"I am _not_ entrusting that monster with our lives." A scowl grew on the cheetah's muzzle. "I have half a mind to put that thing down, Roland."

"Fluffy has only _helped_ me!" Roland exclaimed. "He doesn't want to hurt us. I'm pretty sure he's here for the sole reason to _protect me_. Someone owns Fluffy – I know that, considering he has a necklace and a name tag. Someone must've sent him to me, and I want to figure out why they would want me protected and who owns him."

"But if that thing of yours ever hurts anyone..." the cheetah began, but he ended up walking away with a scowl on his face, jumping off the thatch rooftop. Roland spun around to Ashlyn, sighing lowly.

Roland waited a minute before speaking again in a murmur. "I wanna know why he's so mad. He seemed fine, and then Fluffy came along. If he doesn't trust Fluffy, that's fine, but Tris didn't look angry around him..."

"I mean, I get it," she said. "It's a big, scary monster. What's not to fear about it?"

"I guess so, but Tris... Oh well." He raised his wings a little, and he could barely feel the pain in them anymore. He wondered now if they'd healed enough to take flight. Only one way to test that out, and that was to jump through the hole in the roof. "You can stop calling Fluffy 'it', by the way. I'm pretty sure he has a–"

"We're leaving for Midrun!" Tris called from the inside of the ruined cottage, interrupting the red dragon and his unseemly statement. She sounded a lot happier since the night before. Or maybe she was masking the sadness in her voice. Either way, he hoped she felt a little better. "Only a few hours of walking and we'll be there!"

The excitement that brought Roland was immense. In just a few hours he could be seeing his friends! He couldn't wait to meet up with them again. He was tempted, now that his wings felt capable of flight again, to careen into the air like a starved vulture, its eyes on the prize. But... he could hold himself still for two or three more hours. He was a patient dragon when he wanted to be.

Of course, that was if they were there. But he truly believed they would be. His friends were tough.

Ashlyn followed him off the rooftop and it was there that he decided to test his wings. He spread them wide. Ashlyn gasped lowly at him, but the burn had become a negligible ache. He flapped them both a few times and, sure that they wouldn't deceive him, hovered in the air above the jagged hole in the cottage. A problem remained, however, and that was that he could feel the pain creeping back once again. He could use his wings, if he didn't mind enduring a steadily growing pain.

He slowly alighted on the ground, Ashlyn beside him with a small but apparently relieved smile on her face. She really didn't want him to be brought to pain. No more pain, at the very least, not after...

No, he had to keep his mind off of that. Stay positive, Roland, he kept telling himself. _Stay positive..._

He drew a deep breath, his eyes eventually wandering over to the yellow dragoness and cheetah awaiting him and Ashlyn. Tris had her head up against a wall, rubbing her lightning-bolt horns up against one of the cottage's wooden walls. Horns grew back as long as the origin wasn't removed, but they also kept growing, just like claws, and, while less so, spines. While growth after returning to an adequate height slowed greatly, constant care was required for such a thing. Roland didn't remember the last time he'd shortened his sharper bits. He felt one of his four horns and thought that maybe they _were_ becoming a little tall. They were the only part of his body he really cared about.

Tris saw this as she finished her own, donning a soft smile. "I wouldn't worry about it too much, Roland. Longer horns look good on you."

Tris, being the stunning dragoness she was, was already trustworthy to him when it came to fashionable horns, so he took her word for it. Harper intervened before anything more could be said.

"Come on, you three. We should've started our journey fifteen minutes ago."

And that was Roland's fault, after choosing sleep over watching for predators, because Harper gave him a talk. A little guilt surged through his mind, but it was quick to pass. Fluffy had done the job for him, so he couldn't feel too bad.

He released yet another yawn, eyelids drooping of their own volition. He could barely keep from jumping up and down in excitement, but his exhaustion weighed him down to the point where he thought he would struggle to walk a few hundred metres. It was a curious feeling to have.

And so they got a move on, down the grassy hills, towards the sparkling Faymaw they'd ventured away from in their haste to run from the death hounds. Fluffy took off into the skies after seeing them move; Roland felt his body jerk at the action, remembering last night's scare. The cheetah had a look around for the dreadwing, and when he spotted him in the air, he let out what seemed like a relieved sigh, for he would no longer be near the beast, at least for now. Roland held back his annoyance at this. He already did trust that dreadwing, and sort of liked him. Fluffy sure was monstrous, but he was a cute kind of monstrous.

Harper led the way down the hillside, stepping over a rotten board, with Tris following closely behind him. Roland strayed ten or so metres from them, with Ashlyn keeping a few paces away from him. To pass the time as they walked towards their destination, Roland approached Ashlyn with a thoughtful smile on his face.

"What do you like to draw, Ash?" She was shocked a little by his presence, like she'd expected to stay alone this entire trip. If the circumstances that brought them together had been any different, maybe he would've stayed away, but he was determined to let her prove herself. A fun conversation would probably help relieve their tension.

"Oh, uh... _anything_ , really." She put a claw to her lip. "But I guess do like drawing the sky a lot. I always asked my mum for paints if she could get her paws on any when we lived in Warfang, but it never happened... Well, I think she _did_ buy me some once, but the tubes were squashed on the floor when I got home from the academy. I've always wanted to paint those swirling blues, that sunset yellow. But alas..."

She peered dreamily into the clouded sky that curled with fluffy whites like serpents, tails tinted with orange from the early morning sun.

"And the stars, too," she continued. "You were right when you suggested I probably like the stars. My mum used to say the jewel in the centre of my ring was from the fragment of a star, but I'm too old to believe that now. I know it's a sapphire."

"Why did she say that?" He was eager to learn why. A light laugh left her muzzle, her eyes on the glimmering piece on her toe.

"She always used to say that, if she was ever gone, she would be up in the stars, watching over me. And if I ever spoke into my ring, she would come down from the heavens and listen to me using the power of the star fragment's magic."

She blew a sigh. He could see a slight happiness twitching at her mouth.

"I miss her. I miss her a lot. But... it's okay. Even if she won't come down from her place with the Ancestors, I always know she'll be there with the stars, listening. Nobody's ever truly gone."

He'd been worried he'd already brought their conversation into the depths of misery once more, but he could only smile at her words. He found the way she spoke quite beautiful...

Maybe she'd make a good writer?

"Hey, Roland?" Tris slowed her pace to get next to the red dragon. Harper turned for a slight moment, but didn't seem bothered. "Can I show you something?"

"Yeah, of course."

Tris smiled at that, running back up to Harper. She said a few quiet words to him. With an agitated nod of his head, the cheetah stopped in place, swinging the heavy rucksack from his back onto a single arm. Roland watched in uncertainty, puzzled about why they'd stopped, and came to a halt where he was, too.

The cheetah fished for something inside, listening with his pointy ears to the sounds from within. He seemed to wrap his paw around something, and with a forceful tug, drew a quirky metallic object from its depths. It looked like a bunch of thin metal rods stuck together with a small trigger at the bottom. Clearly not a weapon of any kind. Or maybe it was and he was yet to see its power. Tris hopped back on three legs with the amalgamation of sticks in a paw, and Harper started moving again. Both Roland and Ashlyn followed.

Ashlyn studied the object as Tris approached, but didn't seem to be able to work out whatever it could be. Tris cheerfully walked back, waiting to see if anyone could guess as to what it was. Roland shrugged. Maybe it was just the angle he was looking at it from.

"You don't know what it is?" she asked. Her voice expressed disappointment, but her almost giddy grin remained. "I thought it was obvious, considering you're both using all four of them right now."

"I have no idea what you mean." He looked at it from differing angles but couldn't decipher what it was. All it was to him was a bunch of thin metal pieces welded together in unhelpful, strange ways. "Wanna tell us?"

"Maybe if I hold it like this, you'll be able to guess!" She bent down slightly, getting close to the red dragon. She walked with the contraption very close to one of his feet. It did take him a few seconds, but both he and the blue dragoness had a revelation at the same time. It was a model of a dragon's paw, although hastily fixed together. He could see where the foot started, connected to four strands representing the three toes and the thumb on each foot. She then pressed the trigger right near the foot's base and he watched as the toes curled into a fist. Even if it was simple, he never expected this dragoness to be some sort of inventor.

"That's pretty cool," he remarked. "But what's it supposed to be for? Are you gonna replace a dragon's missing foot with it?"

His joke made Tris laugh. "Oh, I'd hope not! It would snap under the pressure. I think that would be pretty cool, though, if that were actually possible. I could be a doctor!"

"What _are_ you going to do with it, then?" Ashlyn chimed in. "Is it just for fun?"

She shrugged. "It's like drawing art, but in three dimensions. I heard you both talking about art and couldn't resist showing you. I was thinking of making a wireframe dragon, though I don't think I can fit _that_ in Harper's bag. Maybe I'll stick to making it look like an actual paw and not this jumble of wires. If only I could work a forge on the go..."

They were nearing the Faymaw now, and a hill that rose much higher than the rest. Roland felt that from the top he'd probably be able to see Midrun. Not very far at all now.

Ashlyn skipped over some rocks in the water, as did Tris. Roland slipped a few times before landing safely on the other side.

"Did you work in a smithy back in Firemore?" Ashlyn asked. Tris nodded eagerly.

"I didn't really _work_. I was too busy with school and cleaning up the house and what not. But yeah, I knew an Atlawa. His name was Alevor. He showed me how to smith a blade and everything in my free time. I could do that stuff in my _sleep_ now.

Roland had always been interested in blacksmiths, but he'd never found the time to look into it. "Have you made anything else, Tris?"

"Oh, there's a few more things in that bag!" she said, eager to show off her work. "We can go over them once we get to Midrun." She looked ahead. "And speak of the devil, there it is."

Roland cast his gaze forward and was met with the happiest sight he'd seen since Firemore had been destroyed. Civilisation. It didn't hold a candle, barely even a wick of flame, to Firemore's looming spires and technological dominance. There was no giant stone wall encompassing the breadth of the city and it was barely a tenth of the size. No electricity of any kind.

But it looked peaceful. Tranquil. A fishing town right on the coast sounded really nice.

That was Midrun, and that was where Roland knew he would find his friends. Everything would be smooth sailing from there.

Maybe, even, he could move in there, rather than Warfang. He wouldn't mind a change of pace from the bustle of the city.

And he could even see dragons flying there! If there was anything he adored just as much as writing and thievery, it was flying, and from every dragon he'd spoken to that was a shared sentiment. That wasn't allowed in Firemore, for there would be too many dragons in the sky at once, and the chance of an accident would've been very high. Firemore had been overpopulated, even for a city of its magnitude. He couldn't wait to get down there, so much so that he could sprint down the hill past the cheetah leading the way, in spite of him craving sleep more than anything.

Well, other than his friends!

"I hope I can find Alevor in there," Tris said. "He's a sturdy old llama. Hopefully my academy friends, too."

Roland didn't respond, but he knew if that he couldn't find the bodies inside Firemore, he'd find them elsewhere, alive. Myrtle _certainly_ wasn't gone. He was counting on that at the very least.

And maybe if Tris believed hard enough too, her friends would be there as well.

"I thought it would be further than this," Tris said. "I could run there, no sweat."

"How about a race?" Roland thought it was probably a fifteen minute run through the Amory Grasslands before they got reached the coastal town, and an even shorter flight. "As long as we're on foot."

"A race?" Ashlyn seemed iffy about it, preferring a leisurely stroll through the grasslands until they reached their destination.

"Well, I'm down." A sly smile pulled at Tris' maw and Roland could only wonder why.

"You won't beat me, Tris. I'm pretty fast." Roland stopped and bent down. "I'm gonna get a head–"

"See ya, Roland!" Sparks crackled around the yellow dragoness before she shot off at what felt like lightspeed. Roland knew he should've foreseen that. Harper spun around as Tris almost smashed into him.

"Tristana! Damn kid! What's gotten into you?!" The cheetah ran after her as fast as he could, but it wouldn't be nearly enough to catch the electric bullet speeding towards Midrun. She did come to a stop only a few seconds later, but she'd already made probably a minute's distance in that time. Roland took that as a sign that he'd already lost, but that he should probably start going, too.

"C'mon, Ashlyn," he said, starting a jog after them, knowing this race was already won. Ashlyn has no choice but to oblige. "Let's catch up!"

* * *

Midrun, despite his previous thoughts, was honestly quite the sight to behold. He couldn't explain it very well. Something about the small, neat cottages packed into rows, the Faymaw bubbling and drifting a straight line through the town to the ocean, the welcoming arch that curled over the top of their group, was homely. The sun was high and the town was, surprisingly (but also happily), bustling with people. He didn't believe Midrun had a large population, so if he had to take a guess, most of the people here were travellers from Firemore.

And if all these people were travellers, arriving earlier this week, then that meant his friends had to be amongst them.

As they walked past the wooden arch and its chained signed reading _Midrun_ swinging and creaking in the breeze, he noticed that plenty of the fishing town were heading towards a central point. The cobble path here was split in two by the river, flowing towards the middle of town and out towards the ocean. If he looked past the hundreds walking along it, he thought he could see a fountain smack in the middle of Midrun, and a _very_ tall dragon standing on a raised platform, waiting for the crowd to gather. It wasn't the platform that made him appear that way, it was just his height, shocking Roland. He was huge! And clearly of importance if he was upon that platform, apparently addressing the citizens and arrivals.

"I do not want you rushing off like that again, Tristana." Harper looked down upon the dragoness, who flinched at the mention of her name. Even her horns seem to droop at his frustration. "And you _definitely_ should not use your magic so recklessly."

"I'm sorry, Harper. I'll stop." But she was only having a bit of fun, Roland thought. What was the harm in that? She didn't put anyone in danger.

"Hurry along, you three," the cheetah said, picking up the pace. "Mr. Varlend appears to be addressing the town, and we probably don't want to miss it."

Roland guessed that was the big red dragon standing above the crowd. He didn't want to miss that, for sure, but maybe not for the reason Harper had. Everybody was gathering there. _That_ would be where he would find his friends. Once everyone began to disperse and he could get a good look at the people walking away, he'd find his friends again.

He couldn't wait to see Myrtle...

It was a long five minute walk to the centre of town. It was far too difficult to get past the crowd. Ashlyn seemed to keep very close to him. Roland couldn't say he was a big fan of crowds, either, unless he was rummaging through their purses in search of copper. It was hugely annoying when he was attempting to write. Speaking of writing, he'd have to buy or steal some parchment or ink so he could begin rewriting what he'd lost. That was if he wanted to move here. He was considering it–

"AHEM!" Mr. Varlend, standing atop the raised plinth, cleared his throat. His voice was deep and booming, even from Roland's position far behind the crowd of creatures, a baritone that made his figure more imposing than it already was. Roland shuffled in place, the anxious chatter quietening down. He could suddenly hear his breathing. "This... would have to be the most filled I've ever seen Midrun."

There was no chuckle over his attempt at a joke. Somebody from within the crowd coughed. Mr. Varlend once again cleared his throat and got down to the matters in need of attention.

"I cannot begin to understand what a lot of you have been through. We still see the smoke on the horizon." He gestured towards the direction Firemore was in. Roland realised he hadn't once looked back at the city. A faint purple cloud rose from the remnants of Firemore. The phoenix, thought to be capable of resurrection, had died. "The entire city was wiped out in _seconds_. I offer my deepest condolences to those who lost... _everything_ in that blast. I am glad, however, that quite a few of you still seem to be with us. I've been informed by hawk that a large number are still approaching. You are first to arrive."

A large number? Roland began to wonder if his friends were even here if that was the case...

No, they'd be here. He hadn't been able to find Myrtle. She must've already moved on. She was probably far ahead of him.

"It seems we enter a new age," Mr. Varlend continued. "An age of destruction. We must prepare. We must inform the Guardians remaining. I've been informed by survivors that the wrath of the purple dragon is upon us once again. The Dark Master, more or less, is returning in a new form. He has already begun destroying what we have after these five hundred years of peace."

The crowd gasped and shook with fear over the thought that war could once more devastate the Dragon Realms. But Roland was already going to make sure that didn't happen. He'd find Drevon and put a stop to this.

He really didn't like hearing these accusations, though. That was _not_ the purple dragon. That was a monster deep within that Drevon desperately tried to keep from clawing its way out. If anything, the purple dragon was doing this world a service.

Roland was bumped in the chaos, shaking him from his wandering mind. There was complete pandemonium. His eyes met Harper's for a moment. His face was steely... Cold. Was it Fluffy above them, giving him that look?

Roland looked up to find the dreadwing wasn't there at the moment. It'd gone somewhere else entirely. Convenient, he guessed, because a dreadwing entering Midrun wouldn't end well. Maybe Fluffy had gone off somewhere to find a predator he'd smelt, like the night before involving the death hounds. He took a bet Fluffy would be back by nightfall, however, and he didn't know how he would deal with that. Maybe he could greet the dreadwing outside of town.

" _Order_!" Mr. Varlend's voice carried across the entire town square. Roland had forgotten the crowd was still carrying on. The mayor's voice stopped them within seconds. " _All_ will be okay. Firemore will be rebuilt with time, as soon as the dark aether has dispersed. But in the meantime, this purple dragon will be hunted down. It's a shame we didn't know of his existence beforehand. I would suggest that he should've been put down years ago, before his power could grow."

Roland swallowed hard at that statement.

"But it is too late for that now. Armies will hunt for him. Armies will kill him. This dragon... no, this _monster_ will be destroyed before any more harm is done. We have prepared for this change since the Dark War. And we will not falter. You will receive vengeance for the atrocities committed. We will not allow the same thing to happen."

Mr. Varlend stopped to let it sink in. Roland's lip quivered.

"The purple dragon will die." The tall dragon spread his wings in a triumphant display of pride. "And no harm will befall any of you. We will send our word to King Amory. His holiness will put a stop to this before it can truly begin."

Armies would hunt for Drevon... He wondered if Drevon was here, listening to this now. How scared he would feel...

"For now, I welcome you all to Midrun," Mr. Varlend said. "Please, try your best to enjoy your stay, in spite of the horror that has befallen us all. We have plenty of taverns across Midrun. We have come to an agreement that their services will be free to you few hundred who survived for a day. Try to get a good night's sleep, and then perhaps we can speak of housing arrangements and educational needs for your children, unless you are heading southwest to Scaletooth or beyond."

The people hummed a murmur of agreement. Mr. Varlend seemed satisfied.

"Alright. If you have any questions, I will wait here for a while. The rest of you can leave. All will be solved posthaste! Do not worry. Good day."

The noise of the people rose immediately. It was clear the speech had affected them. Sadness, and now _hate_ , arose. The purple dragon would be detested for everything he'd done, even if he'd tried his damnedest to stop it.

Roland wondered if there was a way to kill the beast residing within the purple dragon without bringing harm to him. Mr. Varlend was right when he said the monster needed to be slaughtered, but not in the way he described.

Drevon was innocent. And even if Roland knew why they would think otherwise, he felt it was completely unjustified.

"Well..." Harper turned his gaze to Roland and the two dragonesses beside him. "Tristana, I guess we will spend a day or two here before we leave for Warfang. I'm not sure what you two wish to do. There is an orphanage here, a few streets to the east, but considering your past experiences with those, Roland, I am not sure if you wish to be there. First of all, however, I suggest we go for a drink..."

"I'm gonna look into the orphanage," Roland told him. He began watching the crowd, slowly but surely dispersing. "But there's something I need to do first before I go. You can run along; I'll meet up with you later."

"What are you doing?" Ashlyn asked. "I-if you don't mind me asking..."

"I'm just gonna look for something." His eyes flicked over the area, in search of anyone resembling the sewer thieves. "I'll join you all soon."

"We'll head to the _Old Hag_ , then. I know the lady there." Harper pointed to the west. "Follow that street and turn right on the third corner. Just look for the sign."

"Alright. See you soon." A short grin accompanied his farewell. "And get me a ginger beer while you're at it."

"Can do," Tris said. "See you, Roland."

He watched the three walk off for a moment, barely noticing Ashlyn looking back at him, before turning his eyes back to the town square packed with meandering bodies. He scanned every last scale as swiftly as he could. Specifically, he was looking for green, and he saw plenty of it.

But there wasn't a young green dragoness among them, with an underbelly of brown, a scar cutting across her eyes from a dagger wound long before she'd come to Firemore. He hoped her eyes would meet his, but there wasn't a sign of her anywhere.

Was she not here? Did she...

"No, she's somewhere else," he whispered encouragement to himself. "Somewhere else in Midrun. She probably just walked off before I could see her."

He looked every which way, trying to pick a direction, but there were four to go in, which meant he'd have a one-in-four chance of getting it right. Which way would she go?

If she thought anything like him... she would go to the orphanage, wouldn't she? That was probably the first spot any lost and alone child would go. Even if she'd hated the decrepit freak running the orphanage in Firemore just as much as him, she wouldn't let that dampen her reason to go there. She was more rational than that...

"To the east it is then."

He jogged down the street, ducking and weaving through legs shambling aimlessly like dead apes. Many buildings he passed in his search to find the orphanage. His pace quickened, heartbeat brisking with each second he didn't lay sight upon Myrtle or one of sewer thieves he knew from Firemore. He twisted around a corner.

There was the orphanage, proud and tall, a giant made of wood and stone. But Myrtle wasn't there, not sticking out like an inky splotch on parchment. He was bumped into by others, standing stiff, but he didn't care.

Where was Myrtle?

She wasn't here...

She wasn't anywhere, was she? He hadn't done enough searching, but now he was losing hope. He could run back. She'd be somewhere else completely by the time he moved back to the town square.

"No, she..."

She'd burnt away in that blast, hadn't she? Just because he couldn't find a body...

She was but ash. Nothing more. She'd already joined the Ancestors.

He'd kept saying he'd known she was alive. Why had kept lying to himself? It just made it worse. His heart sank.

The crowd was beginning to disperse. Still no sign of her. He fell to his rear, gaze buried in the cobble pathway. Nobody took notice of the Red Rodent. Nobody would ever help the Red Rodent.

There was a distinct shuffling. It moved so slowly, almost as though the creator were in shock. It made him look up. He had to blink several times to make sure what he was seeing was real.

"R-Roly...?" The green dragoness, with the brown underbelly and the scar across her eyes spoke his nickname. "I-Is that..."

He didn't feel like he could move a single muscle.

"Myrtle..."

Myrtle took hasty steps towards him and stopped inches from his face. It didn't seem like she knew if what was happening was real or not. She had to analyse the body in front of her for several seconds. With speed that surprised Roland, she threw her front legs around his shoulders, gripping him with force he could barely handle. Her claws nearly tore away his scales.

But he didn't care a single bit. He'd found Myrtle. He'd found her...

It hadn't even been long since they'd seen each other, but he couldn't help but feel like they'd been separated for years.

"Y-you..." she stuttered out after a while, breathing heavy, shaking. "Y-you were..."

He wanted to lift his legs and take her in the embrace as well, but he'd end up falling over. His joy was hardly contained, and his disbelief vanished in an instant. "I'm here now, Myrtle."

Roland felt something wet of hers drip onto his back. He could barely keep his own from falling.

"Roland... You f-fuckin' _stink_."

He couldn't help but crack a smile at that one. "Do you really care, though?"

"No. Not a single bloody bit."

She pulled away, eyes watery. The smile on her lips disappeared.

"I... I thought everyone was gone. I f-found you, and... y-your heart wasn't beating. You were _dead_... I-I guess I just didn't look hard enough for a pulse."

She ran a paw over her face, but tears fell anyway. He wondered all of a sudden if that strange wetness all the way back in Firemore had been her. He also began to wonder how she survived the blast when so many others hadn't. She'd lost a lot of blood back there in Firemore, and she seemed relatively okay now. He put it up to consuming spirit gems, and while the thought was worrying, considering how many she'd used in recent memory, he was glad she was fine. He'd ask her about it later anyway.

He looked over her shoulder and gave her wings a glance. They looked so... dry, like the scales wanted to peel away. He had no clue what it was, but he didn't have time to think about it. Again, he'd question her later.

She seemed bothered by his silence. "I'm sorry I left you there, Roland. I'm so, _so_ sorry..."

"Hey," he said, placing a claw beneath her chin. He didn't want her thinking he was mad at her. "You don't know how glad I am that you're even alive, Myrtle. I looked at myself, and I really _did_ look like I'd died. I don't blame you at all."

Even this tough dragoness' happiness could return at that and his affectionate touch. She did, however, swat his paw away a moment later, and planted a soft punch right into his shoulder.

"I'm not like this... ever. Guess ya know I ain't that tough anymore."

He snickered. "It's nice to know you care, Myrtle. And when have you ever been tough? It's not like I haven't seen you sad before. And you play a _harp_ , Myrtle. Harps are _not_ tough-girl instruments."

"W-w-what? N-no, I don't!" Her legs stiffened. He laughed at her total mortification. It was rare that she'd be on the receiving end of a fistful of embarrassment in any of their conversations. It was usually him taking the punches. "I–"

"You're not a bad singer, either." Even if his words were rooted in embarrassing her, he did have to compliment the skills she had. "I've listened behind your door before. It's kind of astonishing."

"I-I..." She decided she wouldn't press it. He'd already won. "Fine. Yes. I do play the harp. But... it's not like I can play it anymore. I couldn't get back into my room."

"Don't worry, I'll make the harp sounds for you," he said. She glared narrowly at him. "Doo, doo, doo–"

"Stop. You're makin' me cringe." Myrtle laughed in spite of her annoyance. "You're soundin' like my damn father. You even look like him, with that big scar on your eye!"

"Alright, fine." Roland stepped away from her. He'd forgotten the street was brimming with all manner of creatures, and felt his face warm over so fondly embracing one of his friends. It didn't matter to him too much, though, realising others had probably already done the same thing without him watching.

He let out a short breath. Now, for the question that'd been on his mind since Firemore had died. "So... Did any of the others...?"

"That blast was powerful enough to level the streets and the part of the sewers we lived in, Roly," she answered, her joy fading. "I did find a way in, through a mole hole away from where we lived, but I should've stayed away. I saw Leurona in there, and... w-well, I think you can guess."

After losing his belief that Myrtle had found her way to Midrun – even if he had found her in the end – he didn't think any of the others would've made it. The chances were too low. Hundreds of thousands had lived in Firemore, and very few of those had managed to make it out. In sorrow, he lowered his head, but he'd been expecting this. He was so lucky to have even the green dragoness before him. He didn't know if he had the right to ask the Ancestors to bless him more than they already had.

There was always the chance they _had_ made it out, and that was what he wanted to believe. But he knew there was no use in hoping for something that wasn't there anymore.

"What about Drevon?" he asked in between his thoughts. Myrtle's eyes brightened at the name, but quite quickly they returned to being downcast.

"Well... he's actually here right now."

"He _is_?!" That got him excited more than anything. Myrtle, however, looked the complete opposite.

"He's not doin' too good right now, Roly." It was the monster inside Drevon that'd brought them here in the first place. What could Drevon even be thinking right now? An entire civilisation wiped away by the fury within him. "He's not in good shape at all. He's nothin' like the Drevon we knew. He's barely spoken to me. He's anxious everyone's gonna come and kill him, and after that speech, he does have a right to be, but I dunno what to do. I know Drevon isn't... that _thing_ we saw, but... You should just see for yourself, Roland. He's hiding in an unoccupied home on the outskirts of Midrun."

Roland nodded. He'd have to wait and find out. He really wanted – no _needed –_ to see Drevon again.

At the same time, he had a feeling in his gut that Drevon was going to do something rash. Roland thought maybe it was his anxiety getting to him. He tried to shake the feeling, but the rivers in his mind tossed and turned with terrible thoughts, his efforts in vain.

He just followed Myrtle, hoping his best friend would be okay.


	16. Shattered Scales

Shattered Scales

His chest tight with anxiety, Roland stared the building down before him. His gut tried to hold him back, but he had to press on. He tried to summon the words he would say to the purple dragon when he got inside, his mind futilely wandering.

"This is the place," Myrtle said, stopping on the grassy hill overlooking the building. Strangely, it was built inside a rounded depression in the ground, almost as if the land around it had sunken. Moss suffocated the timber, gnarled over the top like old branches, left there neglected. It took him a while to find the door, hidden within the mass of life and rot.

Some of the tendrils had been cut away recently, he noticed, near the door and what appeared to be an arched window. The window pane had been smashed; chunks of glass lay on the ground beneath it. He pondered whether Myrtle and Drevon had broken it, trying to get it open. Even from his distance and with his years of living inside a sewer, the rotten scent wafting from within the building made his stomach clench. It almost smelt how Fluffy did.

"I dunno how he's gonna react to seein' you. I told him you were dead. That's what I thought, anyway... I'm worried he might look even worse now."

"How so?" Roland questioned. He could only imagine what that dark aether had done to him. Had his colours faded, like those that'd expended the last of their magic in absolute fury? "What does he look like?"

"He's..." Myrtle stopped with a sigh. She pointed towards the opening in the building where the moss had been slashed away. "It's probably best just to show you. He's up in there. You can fly up there if you want, but I'm just gonna go through the door."

"I'd rather not. Gem burn. It's been in my wings for a couple days now. I can fly, but it hurts too much for me to want to." He looked behind her head again, noting how oddly dry her wings were. "What's up with your wings? The scales kinda look like they're peeling."

"Oh, my scales are a bit sensitive," she said. Even if that was the issue, he couldn't deny just how painful it looked, although she didn't seem to be in any real agony. Roland knew it stung to rip a scale off. "Don't worry about it. It's nothin'. Hurts a bit, but that's alright.."

Roland decided to let it go. She was okay. It'd heal with time. "Okay. Let's... go and see Drevon, then, I guess."

He followed Myrtle down the gentle slope. Myrtle fiddled with the rusted padlock on the door before it clicked open. Light pooled inside the entrance as she pulled it, the handle falling off with a soft crack; Myrtle shrugged and threw it to the ground. Roland grabbed his snout as the odour ripped through all his senses. He swore he could smell the old hag from the orphanage in there...

Myrtle found the will to laugh at his disgust, even though she felt the exact same way. "Yeah, it fuckin' reeks in here. Never thought anything could smell so much worse than those bloody sewers. I can smell a million wet dogs. I think it's comin' from the basement. It's a bit better at the top."

"Thank the Ancestors for that." He took his first apprehensive step into the building. Wet moss squelched beneath the pads of his paws – being used to stepping in undesirable substances, he didn't mind so much, but now he truly did want a bath, and not just a short wash in a river, either. The walls were black and green with rot and mould; the house stood on its final legs. A well-placed punch to one of the supporting beams could probably knock the whole thing down.

The only thing left inside the dying home was a set of stairs. A few of the planks were missing, broken and on the floor, and a couple desperately hung on by what looked like toothpicks, but it did seem at the very least climbable.

"I think there was a fire here," Myrtle said. "And that they were trying to knock this house down. It seems like they lost interest, though. Lazy moles being lazy moles, I guess, but hey, it gives us a place to stay for now."

"I'm guessing Drevon's up there?" He looked up. Drevon hadn't noticed them yet, he thought. He couldn't hear the purple dragon shifting, either.

"Yeah, he is. He went to sleep a little while ago." She walked over to the steps. "Be careful as you go up. Step on the boards I do. I figured out the way."

One at a time, they climbed the set of steps. Dust and chipped wood fell from the boards they both stepped on, but they held firm. The top floor was smaller and the smell wasn't nearly as bad, although it lingered. His eyes were on the door in front of him.

Myrtle allowed him to go first. He took a step, the boards creaking. Another. From the other side of the door, he could hear, even feel, a faint whispering, but it sounded nothing like Drevon. He wrapped his paw around the handle, instinctively holding his breath.

His paw quivered. He turned it so, unnaturally, slow. Almost, he didn't believe he would be able to bear what he found on the other side.

 _Click._ He opened the door.

Roland was a shadow standing in the entrance, and in the middle was another, just like him, bent down and slumbering. The light purple the scales once carried had dimmed into a deep violet that he almost mistook for black. His body was cracked, chipped, broken. Every lustrous scale had shattered. And through the cracks a dark energy swam, coiling around the body, serpentine in nature. His horns, once silver and gleaming, were gone.

Was this... Drevon? Roland barely recognised the dragon. Every aspect about him had changed.

Roland took another step, and this alerted the purple dragon. Drevon shook from his slumber.

"Who's there!? Myrtle?" he exclaimed. Milky eyes jolted open. Roland could barely see the pale purple inside them. The dark aether swam faster, more violent.

Roland cleared his throat and took another pace forward. "It's me, Drevon. It's Roland."

Drevon had to stare for a while before he finally recognised his best friend.

"R-R-Roland?"

Roland, shivering, put on his best smile. "The one and only."

Drevon didn't seem to believe it at all. The darkness calmed and Roland thought he could see more purple amongst the dark aether. The purple dragon took slow steps over to the red.

"Y-you're alive? I-I'm not s-s-seeing things?"

Myrtle sat down. "I was about as shocked as you, Drevvy."

Roland gulped down the ball in his throat. Here he was. This was Drevon. Roland had been so excited to see his friends again, but now he felt... awful. He felt sick. This was what had become of their guild of thieves. Two survivors, other than him, one destroyed beyond belief.

And he felt as if he, in part, was to blame for it.

"H-how did you...?" Drevon stopped. He was shaking from head to toe.

Roland shrugged. "I dunno. Don't worry about it. I'm just glad you're not... like _that_ anymore."

Drevon didn't say anything else, more intent on being stupefied by the survival of his best friend. A wetness formed in his eyes.

"R-Roland... I..."

Roland lost the smile.

"...I'm sorry, Roland."

Drevon stared ahead for a few seconds before his eyes finally fell to the ground. A tear rolled down the purple dragon's cheek. He raised his front paws and wrapped them around the red dragon's neck, burying his face into his shoulder.

Roland opened his mouth but no words left it. He had no clue what to say. What was he supposed to say? Was he supposed to reassure him that everything was okay? Because... it certainly didn't feel like it. Drevon wouldn't believe that.

He decided to do it anyway. There was nothing more he could do. "It's okay, bud."

"No," Drevon spoke into his shoulder, as expected. "It's not."

Roland thought he would feel happy, seeing and hearing Drevon again. His expectations had been shattered. He felt miserable for him.

Drevon felt so cold. Roland could feel his whole body vibrating, churning, with dark power.

"I-I did something... h-horrible. I-I... I k-killed..."

"Shh..." Roland leaned into Drevon. "That wasn't you, Drevon."

"That thing is me, a-and I... I couldn't suppress it. I-it's all my fault..."

"Look at me," Roland said. Drevon raised his head, letting his legs fall off his best friend. Roland stared into his teary purple eyes. "No, it's not. You are _not_ to blame. Don't say you are. That thing inside you did this. You're an awesome person, not that monster."

"Roly's right, Drevon," Myrtle said, walking over. A comforting smile curled her maw. "That thing isn't _you_."

Drevon shook his head. He breathed a frustrated sigh. "Doesn't change the fact it's inside me... I-it's a part of me."

"Drevon–" Roland said, but Drevon just kept shaking his head.

"I-I've tried _so hard_ to restrain it."

"You've tried your best, Drevvy," Myrtle replied. "Isn't that all you can–"

"M-my best isn't _good enough_." Drevon stepped away. Tears slipped through his attempts to stay calm. "I can... can always feel it down there. It hurts. All of this... _swirling_ around me?" He pointed to one of the coils, spinning and bubbling, before it returned to his body. "It... fucking burns. It hurts _so much_."

Roland didn't know how to sympathise. Living in constant pain? How did Drevon deal with that? He'd never told him any of this before.

"Y-you can't even _begin_ to understand how scared I always am that something is going to happen to me and then... all of _this_ is going to come out of me and... and hurt everybody." Drevon clenched his paws. "I'm a mistake. I'm _unnatural_. I shouldn't be like this. Seth was right. I'm just a fucking bomb waiting to explode."

"No, Drevon, you're not–"

"Shut up, Roland!" the purple dragon yelled. Roland was completely taken aback by his aggression. Drevon had never been so hostile. "You're wrong! Don't even _try_! You're not trying to convince me, you're just trying to convince yourself that I'm not a fucking _problem_!"

Roland's voice was small. "But I... don't believe that. At _all_."

Myrtle beside him had gotten up, and was standing a distance away, fearful. "Drevon, please stop. Y-you're makin' it worse."

The winding torrents of dark aether moved faster. The purple was fading into black once again. Tears streamed down his face. "Why should I even care anymore!? I'm in horrible pain! I'm afraid I'm going to murder everyone, and I f-fucking _have_!"

Roland felt he was getting desperate. He reached forward with a paw to grab his shoulder. "Drevon, please, we can find a way. There has to be a way to get rid of it, or to at least get rid of the pain..."

Drevon slapped his paw away. "Don't touch me! Get away! I-I... I might just end up hurting you, too!"

The darkness grew more rapid, and the deep violet had finally changed to black. All that was left of him were his eyes, and slowly they started to go, too. Drevon was fading away, embracing what he loathed.

"I've already killed almost everyone I love! Almost killed you... A-all because I couldn't bear Carolin dying! Sh-she never would've wanted this. She hates me. I know she does!"

Roland spoke in a hushed tone. "I doubt she would've. But... I'm sure she understands. She wouldn't hate you, ever."

Drevon continued as if he hadn't heard him at all. "I'm... h-horrible! I'm a terrible person! I'm a _monster_! _"_

Myrtle stopped before him. "Drevon, you're not a–"

"Yes, I AM!" Drevon stepped back. The floorboards cracked beneath his feet. Roland held his breath. "This world would be better off without a genocidal monster like me! The longer I'm alive, the worse everything is!"

Drevon gasped for air. The fury disappeared in a flash.

"...Monsters deserve to die."

Anger surged through Roland's veins from the rage Drevon forced upon himself, but it was cut off by a spike of fear when he realised what the purple dragon wished to do.

"N-no, Drevon, don't think those–"

But Drevon swiftly cut the red dragon off with a wave of his paw. The rivers of dark aether flowed slowly, coldly. Drevon's voice had finally calmed, though the horrible things spiralling through his mind had not.

"Why shouldn't I? It's what I deserve. It's what I _want_. Everyone would be happy. Nobody would have to worry anymore."

"Drevon, don't you _dare. We_ wouldn't be happy," Myrtle said. Her own anger grew. Roland thought he saw a hint of green floating around her muzzle. "There's a better way to get around this. _Try_ to have some faith."

Drevon merely sighed.

"I'm done."

Rapidly, the purple dragon swivelled around, then leaped out the window. A blast of green magic flew out of Myrtle's maw, but she was too late and he was too quick. Roland rushed after him, stopping at the window, watching as the purple dragon raced up the hill, disappearing behind a bush.

Roland didn't hesitate a second longer, finally realising the breadth of the situation. He leaped out after Drevon, with Myrtle right behind him, flapping his wings once as he hit the ground to break his fall.

Grass clumped in his quickening, tight paws, Roland charged after the purple dragon, dust spiralling behind him. His heart pounded with the energy of a thousand suns. His previous agility was thwarted in his desperation.

He'd never run so fast in his life. Drevon was _not_ going to do this, especially not after he believed so faithfully in his survival.

"Drevon! Stop! You're making a mistake!" he yelled. Drevon either didn't hear or didn't listen; the red dragon didn't know, for he couldn't find the purple dragon within the grass, stretching as high as his body.

"Drevon!" Myrtle called from beside him, slashing at the long blades with her claws. Her blunt talons didn't make much of a difference.

Roland shouted for his best friend once again, but nobody came. His eyes scanned every last blade, looking for a blackening scale amongst the tall dying yellow.

He didn't stop running, didn't even feel himself tire out. Adrenaline knew nothing of exhaustion. He would run until his legs gave way.

And then... there it was. He was quickly gaining on it. He leaned forward, gathering as much speed as he could, and nearly leaped into the air to tackle the dash of purple sprinting from him.

There was a sliver of silver. It came flying forward, hard.

The flat of a tail blade struck his skull with an almighty crack. He tripped, skidding through the grass, tumbling for what felt like minutes.

He lost focus on his goal, on himself. Adrenaline gave way to unconsciousness. Everything turned a deeper shade of violet than the scales of his best friend, now lost.

* * *

Roland clasped his head, groggy. Creamy walls stood around him, as plain as truth. Something soft lay beneath him, and something sharp stabbed at his head. He had to blink a few times to realise the gravity of the situation.

Where was he? Where was Myrtle?

He jolted upright, realising the gravity of the situation.

Where was _Drevon_?

He attempted to get up, but something in a doorway, tucked away in the corner, came rushing in, hearing the old blue bed creak.

"Woah, take it easy!" a female voice called, young and worried. It wasn't familiar to him. Plain white walls, semi-uncomfortable bed... Was he inside an infirmary? He looked over, finding a mole dressed in a black robe. A doctor, probably. "You've taken a pretty nasty blow to the head."

"W-what happened?" he asked. He sat straight, paw still on his head. "W-where–"

"You're in my house and I'm treating you," the mole said, polite. She stepped over towards a small cabinet beside his bed, grasping a tall glass and a jug of water from atop it. He found Garv's satchel sitting right beside it. "And I would like to find out what happened. Would you like a drink, Mister...?"

"Uh... Roland." The instinct to not give away his real name still remained, but what would it matter here? "And sure."

His throat did feel abnormally dry. He took the glass from her when she was done pouring, and guzzled it all down in seconds. He handed it back to her and she took it away with a smile.

"Okay, Roland. My name is Canetta. Do you remember what happened, Roland?" She set the glass back on the counter. "I wouldn't be surprised if you've lost your memory after that smack. I'm shocked the bruise isn't bigger."

Roland felt his forehead, but the lump there didn't feel too noticeable. It hurt like hell, though.

Canetta laughed. "You're lucky to get away with most of your looks still intact."

He managed a grin and was tempted to deny it, but he'd take any compliment he could get. "Well, in regards to what happened, I was running, and..."

Then it hit him. He'd forgotten in seconds. He almost leaped off the mattress.

Drevon was out there! He was about to...

"Wait, how long has it been!?" he asked, panic in his tone.

The mole looked at the watch around her wrist. "Uh, since that dragoness brought you in? About... six hours, probably. It's getting late."

He nearly cursed.

 _Six. Full. Hours._

At this point, Drevon was already dead.

He threw his head into his paws, the headache worsening. He felt like crying right there, but managed to hold it in.

"Is something the matter?" The mole put her paws on the mattress, looking up at him. "Did something happen back there?"

"I... I really need to go," he said. She, however, shook her head.

"I'm really sorry, but I can't let you do that. I need to fill out a medical record." She offered an apologetic smile. "It's... what gets me paid by the medical council in Warfang. I won't go into a bunch of boring adult stuff, though. Let's make it as quick as we can and you can get out of here in a jiffy."

"I..." He wanted to get up and ignore her, but any good will he had left kept him from leaving. It wasn't like he had much to gain from leaving now anyway. What would he even do now? Reluctantly, the red dragon returned to laying on the bed. "Alright..."

"Good. This shouldn't take long. You had a friend waiting for you in the entry, but she left for the _Old Hag_ a little while ago. She said she wanted me to tell you that."

"Who?" he asked. The question would delay his departure, but he didn't care much for time anymore. Now he wanted to get it over with, so he could go somewhere he could be by himself.

"Know any lovely blue dragonesses?" She grabbed a slip of paper off the cupboard. "Ivory horns, blue eyes, has a pretty ring?"

Ashlyn? What was she doing there? How did she find them? "Yeah, I do. Did she bring me in?"

"Yeah, you and a green dragoness. She's surprisingly strong, carrying two unconscious dragons at once."

Had she followed them to the rundown building?

"That's clearly jogged your memory." Canetta giggled again. She held the slip of parchment up. "Mind telling me what happened now so I can fill out this?"

Roland certainly wasn't going to tell her he'd been running after a purple dragon before he knocked him out. He'd have to make up some kind of false but believable story.

"Uh... Me and that green dragoness you were talking about, Myrtle, got into a bit of a scrap, and we both ended up knocking each other out when we charged at each other."

Canetta grabbed a vial of blue ink and dipped a claw in. She scribbled something on the page. "Ah, I see. Typical dragons... What got you both into this fight? And why on the outskirts of Midrun of all places?"

"We just got into an argument before it got a bit violent. And... I dunno, it's where we were at the time, just exploring. We came from Firemore."

"I see. My deepest condolences, Roland." She bowed shortly before returning to the page. She wrote a few more words. "Well, that should be good enough for the firsthand account. I just need a signature now."

She handed him the page. He couldn't even read the writing. It was an inky, curly mess on the page. "Uh, I don't have one."

"Just make one up, then." She grinned. "It doesn't matter too much. I just need proof that I did treat someone."

He shrugged as she handed him the vial of ink. He dipped his claw inside, tilted his head for a few moments, before writing something resembling his name. He would probably forget his new signature.

"A signature isn't _really_ proof, but there's inspectors that come around every now and then to make sure I'm doing my job properly, and I'd be arrested if I wasn't... Sorry, I'm getting into adult stuff."

"Can I leave now?" He'd already started getting up.

Canetta nodded, finishing off the page with a long tick. "Yes, you're free. I'm guessing you don't want to be around that green dragoness for now? That's why you're in such a rush?"

"Uh, no, I was gonna... say sorry," Roland said.

"Oh, good on you! Well, I'll take you to her, then. She's been awake for a while, but hasn't wanted to talk to me yet." Roland wrapped his satchel around his neck and followed her as she walked over to the doorway with him. Myrtle, not wanting to talk? That was unlike her. But he could understand. He was struggling to speak to this doctor as well. He just wanted to get away from it all, but he had to make sure Myrtle was okay first.

They paced down a short hallway to a door on the opposite end of the room. It was cracked open, a thin slit of light cutting into the darkness. The window was curtained and closed, and he could see the outline of a green dragoness resting within. She didn't seem to be asleep, just laying, eyes closed.

"I'll leave you to it," Canetta told him, voice quiet. "I'm going to get back to reading. I will come back to get a report out of Myrtle as well."

"Alright, thanks." He gave her a soft smile.

She started walking off, but turned a moment later, a claw pointed at him. "Oh, by the way, tell your friend to stop consuming spirit gems for a while. She looks to be suffering from a minor case of crystallisation in the wings. The scales are peeling and a thin layer of skin-like crystal is growing underneath. It's not harmful yet, but it will get worse if she keeps on going how she is."

So that was what that was, not some scale condition, but another effect of spirit gem consumption, and Myrtle was trying to keep it from him, clearly. He'd heard of it. A dragon could create a powerful elemental blast and kill themselves in the process if too many were consumed at a single moment, but crystallisation worked over a long period of time, constantly absorbing too many gems, just not enough to complete overload their mana reserves. He'd have to try to keep her away from them if that was the case.

"Seriously, it can get to the point where the limbs have to be amputated." Canetta's voice turned deadly serious. It was almost unnerving to Roland, to hear her like that, to hear the word 'amputated'. "It gets _extremely_ painful when it reaches the torso and can be fatal in some cases. I've had to do an operation on a dragon before, and it's... not pretty, I can tell you that much. I don't want to see your young friend reach that point."

"Yeah, I'll tell her," he said. "Thanks again."

"You're welcome." She shuffled off, mumbling to herself, "Now, where was I in _Waterdark_...?"

Roland watched her disappear behind a corner before sighing to himself. He'd tried his best to be cheery for her. He didn't think he could manage that for Myrtle, too, but he'd at the very least try.

He pushed the door open, revealing the green dragoness. She looked at him briefly before returning her gaze to the bedding. Roland invited himself inside.

"I'm awake." Roland stopped by the side of the bed she lay atop. "I've got a pretty bad headache, but I'm okay."

"So do I." Myrtle fiddled with a loose thread on the blanket. She yanked it away, like a scale. Her face revealed her feelings of failure. "Gosh, I... I just don't know what to say, Roland. Do you think Drevon...?"

Roland wanted to say yes. He really, really did. But he just couldn't. All he did was shrug.

"He seemed real adamant about it," Myrtle replied, "thinking... killing himself would make everyone happy. There has to be a way to stop that thing from coming out, but it's too late to find answers now."

Roland looked up at her. She moved her legs and sat up, offering him a position on the bed. He gladly took it.

"What do we do, Roland?"

To find a place to settle down was what his answer would've been. He'd wanted to free Drevon from his darkness and travel to Warfang. Now he didn't want to move anywhere at all. He felt his stomach tighten.

"I don't know."

She seemed surprised by this. He always had an answer, a solution to any problem. This problem didn't have a solution.

Her frown was slight. "Are you gonna leave me?"

"What?" He looked at her as if she'd gone mental. "Why in the name of the Ancestors would I want to leave you?"

"I..." She shrugged. "I guess I just don't wanna be alone. You don't have to stick with me if you don't wanna. We ain't family."

"You're insane, Myrtle. You _are_ family!" he exclaimed. "You're like a _sister_ to me! You're... all I have left..."

She started playing with another loose thread. "...Forget it. Everyone else is gone, I'm... just afraid I'm gonna lose you, too."

Roland didn't want to cry anymore. He'd already accepted it. He felt he should've expected this when he came here. He'd been so, so naïve, thinking everything would turn out okay, thinking all of his friends would be here when so many others had been turned to ash. The Ancestors couldn't be so kind.

And he fully expected things to just keep getting worse.

When was he _really_ going to die?

He should've been killed in that blast. They all should've. They'd be at peace, then.

...No, stupid thoughts. The Ancestors blessed him with this life for a reason. He shouldn't be so disrespectful as to throw it away.

He just wished his best friend was here to share it with him. Seth was right in the end. Drevon really had been a ticking time bomb, just not in the way the brown dragon expected.

He felt bad for not crying. But that was just him trying to stay strong. His inner strength was all he had left.

"I think we should get out of here," Myrtle said. She'd already hopped off the bed and had opened the curtained window. It was getting late by the looks of things.

"Yeah. Let's go before she gets back." He followed her to the window. She yanked the doors of it open and climbed through, the tips of her brown horns brushing against the top of it. He looked back towards the infirmary one final time before accompanying her through.

They landed on the pavement outside. The streets were silent, the celestial moons their only companion. It was strange not seeing technology guide the way.

Roland followed Myrtle around a corner before halting at a bench adjacent to two bushy trees. The central fountain stood behind it, a stone depiction of the Great Twelve, water flowing out of their mouths.

"I know you said you don't know, Roly," she said, climbing onto the bench, "but..."

"Well..." He followed her lead, leaping up onto the cast iron seat. He fitted his claws between the grooves in the ornate pattern. His head lowered of its own accord. "I... I guess we can head to the _Old Hag_. I have friends there waiting for me."

"Wait, you do!?" She was totally astonished by this newfound information. "Why are you actin' like nobody from the sewers lived, then!? What the hell, Rol–"

"No, it's not like _that_ ," he intervened. "None of the thieves lived. Other people. Harper, Tristana, and Ashlyn."

"Harper, Tristana... Haven't heard of – wait, Ashlyn?"

"Oh, right." Of course she didn't know yet. Myrtle would still be mad at the blue dragoness.

"What the _fuck_ is she doin' with you!?" Myrtle's wings flared, her voice growing loud. She recognised this quickly, though, and asked again. "Why are you travellin' with _her_? You better have a damn good explanation."

"It's a long story." He shrugged. It would get his mind off Drevon, at least. "Where do I begin...?"

He started back in Firemore, his attempts to find spirit gems, and how he stumbled upon the blue dragon they'd seen in their robbery. Myrtle flinched at the memory. He told her of Ashlyn's father, that dragon, and how Ashlyn had been forced into it, that Aurus had been watching her do it. How she didn't have much of a choice in any of it, how Aurus would've done horrible things to her. Myrtle tilted her head.

"She saved me, too," he finished. "From Aurus."

Myrtle was in thought for a few moments before finally speaking her mind. "You can't just say she's not guilty of anythin', though. She _murdered–_ "

"I'm _not_ ," he said. "But I want to give her a chance. She's not a bad person by any means. She was just born under really unfortunate circumstances, kinda like you and me. Honestly, I'd do the same in her position. From how Ashlyn was putting it, it kind of sounded like Aurus was going to kill her if she didn't go through with it."

Roland couldn't read the expression on her face. If anything, she didn't seem swayed.

"Maybe you'll just have to talk to her yourself." Roland jumped off the seat. "She is really nice. A little timid, but she's still getting used to being around others. She only wants to make up for what happened."

She sighed. "Roly, I..." She stopped before the words came out. Roland frowned, thinking about what might've come out of her mouth. "Well, I trust your judgement. Whatever. Let's head to the _Old Hag_ and meet your new friends, I guess. There's nothin' else we can do. Maybe a few drinks'll get rid of this damn headache."

They started walking together, side by side, to the inn.

"I think you'll like her. Tristana, I mean." Roland winked. He needed something to get his mind off what had happened. He always found jesting a good way to do it. "She seems like your type."

"Pfft, what do _you_ know about my type, no-breath?" She couldn't contain her laugh. He relished in hearing joy from her. "You get off to that fuckin' Octavia girl and she's low-tier at _best_."

"Eh, I think you'll be surprised." Roland grinned. It might've been forced, but there was a hint of happiness in there somewhere. "Although, I doubt she'd be interested in someone as ugly as you, bird-snout."

"Considerin' it's comin' from you, lanky, I don't think I should care..."

* * *

"I think this is the place..."

"That sign _totally_ doesn't say _Old Hag_ ," Myrtle replied, looking at him with narrowed eyes. He peered up to find a wooden sign chained from a pole hanging over the door. Creamy white letters were carved into the birch, swirling and elegant. He felt embarrassed, missing the obvious (and literal) sign that they'd arrived. Her laugh was small and fleeting. "Ya big dork."

"...Shut up." His eyes wandered across the old, sturdy building before him. A large, comfortable looking place, far bigger than any others on the path, a gentle behemoth made of timber. Two steps led to an open door lit by an electric lamp. He was surprised to find that, considering his thoughts on not seeing any electricity. Just no street lights then, unlike Firemore. The coastal fishing town was clearly not as sophisticated or advanced as his old city.

He'd have to wait until he walked inside to get a better look, but the place was crammed with people, and the noise matched what he'd become accustomed to hearing as he walked the market square of Firemore. It was clear this night was particularly busy for the _Old Hag_. And they apparently weren't making a single copper piece off any of this? Even after what had transpired, this generosity felt unfounded, especially to him.

But he ignored that for now. A free drink was a good drink. "Alright, let's go in. We'll find my other friends."

She smiled before bowing shortly. "Freaks before ladies."

"You're not funny." He rolled his eyes and approached the door first, Myrtle following his tail. Usually, someone at his age wouldn't be allowed inside an inn, and the law was generally the same and concrete everywhere, but towns and cities could change some rules depending on how they felt. Elsewhere, consuming alcohol was illegal for a minor like he, but the legal age in Midrun was a young fourteen. That was about as far as Bailey the Drunk could lower it without enraging the people, or so he'd read in a book he'd stolen on the law once, curious about what he could get away with doing. Midrun had been lax on alcohol for centuries now.

He could see other kids in there already anyway. He chose to stop worrying and entered the doorway.

It was loud when he was outside, but this was a whole new level of noise. Glasses chiming, voices chattering and occasionally arguing around long tables, all deafening, echoing around the tall building. The scent of beer wafted across the room, and to Roland, the faint ginger in the air was heavenly. He could almost taste it. Hopefully downing a few would drown out the noise; his headache was only worsened by this place.

Nobody paid him and his green friend mind as he eyed the tables, looking for his recent companions. It took him a while, but he found they weren't around the longer tables and instead sitting towards the back, inside a walled booth. A small chandelier was hung above them, a miniature version of the great one fixed to the high roof amongst the timber beams. He made eye contact with Tris, who straightened from her hunched position on the seat. She grinned eagerly, briskly pacing towards him. Ashlyn saw him next and offered him a small smile before she looked at Myrtle. She returned to sipping her drink.

He waited for Tris to walk over, watching Myrtle at the same time in anticipation. She was turned around at the moment, looking at a green and black banner on the wall, embroidered with the famous Midrun Leviathan, a monstrous creature that would return to the shore every century for a day, a celebration held in its name. There was one on either side of the door, and another two over where the bar stood, on the left as he walked in.

"Hey, Roland!" Tris said, nearing him. "It's good to see you're alright. Ashlyn explained what happened. She found you knocked out, apparently. What happened?"

"That's what the doctor told me," he responded. Myrtle turned around, hearing him speak. "I'll explain what happened when we sit down. I'm fine now. Just have a bit of a headache. This noise isn't doing it any favours."

"Hey there..." Myrtle looked the yellow dragoness over, from head to paw, lost for words. Her maw fell another inch every second. "... _gorgeous_."

"Please, call me Tris – huh?" She tilted her head. Clearly she didn't like her full name and this instinctive response had grown from people calling her it. She didn't have any way to know _this_ was coming, though.

"T-Tris, I mean, yeah!" Myrtle cleared her throat. "...H-hey."

Tris frowned, perplexed, before she laughed softly. The green dragoness could not stop looking at anything other than her eyes.

Tris grinned before speaking again. "What's your name?"

Myrtle gulped. "M-Myr... Myrtle! It's Myrtle... Yeah. Call me Myrtle."

Roland could barely hold back a snicker. He was waiting for this to happen and had even expected it. The reaction was still priceless, no matter how well he foresaw it.

"Why don't we go sit down?" he suggested.

"Uh, sure, yeah! Follow me." Tristana turned around. Roland stood back for a few seconds, silently laughing at Myrtle. Her paw was to her chest, eyes fixated on her tail swinging back and forth. Roland thought he could hear her heart beating from where he stood

"Ancestors, Roly, you were actually _right_ for once."

"C'mon." He pulled on her leg to get her moving. They started following her. "Let's not keep her waiting."

Inside the booth were two soft, rectangular seats attached to each wall, donned in leather, around a polished wooden table. Ashlyn looked up at Roland, but didn't seem capable of eye contact with Myrtle. Myrtle did look at her briefly, but didn't have a thing to say. He didn't know if that was Myrtle trying to decide how she felt, or if she was still shocked by Tris.

"Oh... h-hey, R-Rol–" A cheetah sitting in the corner belched. Roland frowned at the normally serious, no-nonsense cat. Harper visibly swung back and forth, unable to keep himself upright. The red dragon counted three tall glasses in front of him, each presumably once filled with a beverage. In contrast was the amount the two dragonesses had drunk, still sipping at their first. Somehow, Harper couldn't resist the flavour of ginger beer. "G-g-good to... s-see you."

Myrtle didn't seem to know what to think of this. She sort of just shrugged and paid it no mind. Roland, deciding to take the initiative, sat down beside Ashlyn, and Myrtle was quick to follow him, joining his other side. There was enough space for their wings to barely miss brushing next to each other.

"Hi, Harper." He turned his head to Ashlyn. "And hey, Ash."

Ashlyn nodded, but didn't say anything. She seemed more concerned with keeping her distance from Myrtle at the moment. Roland was sure it would be fine. He'd have to convince her later.

"I... think you need to stop drinking, Harper," Tris said, trying to grab the beverage. Harper, seemingly out of it before, snatched his glass away, ginger beer spilling onto the floorboards.

"Get your paws off, Missy!" He pointed an accusing claw at Tris before going for a gulp. He spilt most of it down his front. "I'm not as think as you drunk I am!"

"You clearly are if you're mixing up your words like that." She giggled. "You're usually quite articulate when you speak."

"W-what in the f-f-fuck is _articulate_?!" Harper slammed his glass onto the table. Roland was surprised it didn't shatter in his paws. The cheetah clutched a paw to his head. "Ugh, my head..."

Tris sighed, voice low. "Wait here, guys. I'm gonna go get Harper a room." She jumped off her seat, pulling on Harper's leg. "Let's go get some scotch, Harper!"

"Ooh, that sounds g-good to me!" Enthusiastically, the cat left with Tris, leaving the other three on their lonesome. He watched Tris head to the bar briefly before heading towards a set of steps to the second floor, where the rooms were probably kept. It seemed likely Tris had had to do this with the cheetah before.

Nobody spoke. Somehow, the silence of their booth drowned out the noise next to them. Roland's brain ran a million miles a minute, in search of a talking point to relieve the tension.

"So..." He looked at Ashlyn. "How did you find us?"

"I, uh..." Her whole body was tense, straight. "I-I followed you. I stopped when you both went inside that old house. I heard a window break and when I went over to see what happened, I found both of you knocked out. S-sorry for following you, I really shouldn't have..."

"It's okay. You did the walk back for me. _And_ I got to sleep on a comfy bed." He smiled. He lost it when a spike of pain shot through his skull. "Where can I get a drink?"

"Coming around now, little one," an elderly voice said. He turned around to find a small mole, probably in her eighties, carrying an overly large jug of fizzy, frothy drink in two paws. He found it funny that he was being called 'little one', but he didn't care; he lost interest in all else at the sight of ginger beer.

And so _much_ of it, too...

"There's four of you over here now and I thought I would bring a dragon-sized jug. You're actually the biggest group we have!" The old lady heaved the jug onto the table. "That sweet yellow 'ness went and put the cheetah to bed. I have no doubts the four of you will be able to finish this off, but be careful. It's so sweet you probably won't even realise each glass is twelve percent alcohol!"

"Ancestors..." Myrtle exclaimed. Dragons as young as they would be drunk after even two of those. This was too much for even a fully developed, overweight adult dragon. "You really think we can finish off that?"

"Oh, this stuff is _addictive,_ I'm sure you'll be able. I'll leave you with it. My colleagues and I have more people to attend to, serving ginger beer to all. Tonight's a good night to get drunk if I do say so myself." The mole waved her paw and left them to their own devices. He barely heard her next words over the noise. "Have a good time, kids!"

Roland stared at the huge jug with keen interest. He pulled it towards himself, wondering how in the world he was supposed to pour such a thing, when he saw a little black lever at the bottom. He pushed an empty, clean glass still on the table over, flicking the lever up.

He looked into the beverage he'd just poured, fizzing, frothy at the top. He put the glass to his lips and took a sip.

His eyes went wide. Calling this drink heaven would've been an understatement. He expected a spicy, bitter taste, regardless of the fizz, because of the alcohol level, but somehow it remained sweet and even tasted light. He shivered in his seat. He allowed more of the amber fluid to trickle down his throat.

"I know it's bloody good, Roland, but Ancestors... Do you _want_ to get wasted in two seconds?" Myrtle, despite her seriousness, laughed. "...Oh, what can I say? I do spirit gems. Go nuts."

He'd almost already finished his glass before he realised Myrtle was speaking to him. The headache hadn't disappeared yet, but with just one it was already fading. He felt... so much happier. He couldn't explain it. After everything that had happened, he thought he would be feeling down, but this drink just seemed to delete sadness entirely.

"I need another," he said quickly before placing his glass beneath the jug again.

"But maybe you _could_ slow down." Myrtle laughed again, but this time it was slight.

"Nah. I need this." He put the glass to his mouth and started guzzling it down.

Ashlyn frowned at him. He couldn't tell if she was worried or confused. He didn't really care, though. "Uh, R-Roland..."

He put his glass on the table again. He spilt orange liquid over his paws in his attempt to get yet another. "Damn, you guys need to drink more of this. Holy... g-geez it's good. Best thing I've ever drunk!"

"Uh, Roly, you might wanna..."

But he didn't hear the rest. He was already downing his third like some crazed lunatic. He didn't remember much after that. By the time he was at his fourth, his vision was blurring over. He felt himself swiftly lose consciousness after a dull thud on the wooden table.

* * *

Roland awoke with a soft groan. His head throbbed with the pain of yesterday; he'd thought it gone...

What had happened?

He clenched his paws, grasping something plush beneath him. Yet another bed. Was he in the infirmary again? Or had he been dreaming?

He looked around, but the walls weren't that gentle creamy colour, instead bare but polished wood. The bed felt cheap, somehow more than the one in the infirmary. The room was bigger, and there was a lot more going on inside of it. This was clearly the inn.

While downstairs had been exquisitely crafted, attention to detail a must, the top floor was nothing special and even felt rushed. He guessed nobody came here often. It wasn't a long walk back home for whoever lived here, considering the inn's central location, and he didn't think there would be many travellers around these parts, either. His eyes wandered across the darkness and he saw the faint form of a dragon beside him in a separate bed, slumbering soundlessly. The green scales were darkened by the lack of light, but he could tell it was Myrtle.

And then he remembered. The alcohol had knocked him out. Of course, it was incredibly strong, but it was clear he couldn't take much anyway. Myrtle or Ashlyn had brought him up. At least the beer had tasted nice...

He had a pretty filthy taste in his mouth, though. It tasted loosely of vomit. He couldn't quite remember all the details. The inn was a hazy memory.

Roland clutched his head again. He clenched his eyes shut as another spike of pain shot through his skull. He looked ahead. Beyond his bed and the small room was a glass door leading to a little balcony overhanging the inn.

He really needed some fresh air...

The red dragon climbed out of bed, careful not to disturb Myrtle from her sleep. Hurriedly, he glided over the boards with his wings, the gem burn having finally worn off.

He stepped outside; the chill breeze struck like a bullet, but he was quick to grow tolerant to it. The sewers had never been warm when winter approached. He walked along the boards, grabbing onto the timber railing with his two front paws.

If it had been a spire, like the ones in Firemore, he would've been able to see all the pretty lights that shone like glimmering diamonds. But Midrun was dark. The town lay silent, the wind playing in his ears an exception.

The moons were pale but large, cowering behind red-tinted mountains that peaked beyond low clouds. Far beyond, to the left, days' travel away, he could see the faint outline of trees, the Everlost Forest standing tall in its mystical beauty, glowing blue. Its light stemmed from large mushrooms that were luminous come nightfall.

A shiver ran down his spine when he felt a soft coldness land atop his head. Nothing like rain, otherwise he would head back inside. He grabbed the powdery substance off the top of his head.

Snow. Winter was right around the corner. It wouldn't envelop the land here, but it would only make things colder.

A breeze picked it up off the pad of his paw and blew it away. He sighed.

Nothing was going right... Almost everyone he knew was dead. He'd lost everything. The condolences of the people here weren't enough.

And now his best friend was gone, too.

He folded his front paws, laying his elbows on the railing. It had only been yesterday. Roland felt like he should've already moved on. He knew he should've expected all of this. He'd been so naïve.

He laid his head on his paws, standing on the toes of his hind legs.

Why did it have to be this way?

Could he blame anyone? His closest blame was Ashlyn, but she didn't want any of this, and didn't have much of a choice in the matter.

Could he blame himself, yet again? Maybe he could've been a better friend... Maybe if he hadn't been so clueless, things would've been better.

He breathed a sharp breath into his paws before lifting his head. If he could somehow turn back the clock, he would. Things would be perfect. He'd make it so.

"It's cold out here," Myrtle said from behind him. He wasn't too surprised she was awake. She'd probably heard him groan. "Do you wanna come back inside?"

"I'm getting some fresh air," he replied. "My head hurts."

"Really?" She walked forward, joining him on the railing. She crossed her front legs like him. "Barely feelin' my headache now." She gave a low chuckle. "Then again, you're probably hung over from all that bloody ginger beer. That was some strong shit."

"It's kinda weird being able to drink without getting in any trouble at all," he said. "Funny how people still find the age limit fine."

"It is weird." Myrtle looked at him with a slight smile on her face. He knew she could tell he was thinking about more than just the age requirement for alcohol. It was that expression; those studying eyes, that apologetic gaze. It wasn't just that she knew he was thinking of more, it was that she knew exactly what it was. Was he really that predictable? "I'm not a heavy drinker myself. Not a big fan of alcohol. But I don't mind free stuff."

Roland sighed. "Myrtle, I can tell you're worried about me. Please don't be."

She didn't seem shocked in the slightest. "Of course I'm bloody worried, but I'm not just worried about you. I'm worried about us and what we're gonna do. We've lost another friend... I'm just glad to have you. That's enough of a blessing."

"Pfft." He shook his head. "Me? A blessing?"

"You're better than nothin'," she said. "I'd... rather you than anybody else."

He shot her a look, opened his mouth, but didn't say anything, and returned to looking at the mountain range.

"Dunno if you understand this, Roland, but you do matter to me." She gently placed a wing on his back. "That counts for somethin', right?"

It took him a few moments, but he had to smile eventually. Being cared about... It was an amazing feeling. He needed to take what he had now and make the best of it. Myrtle wouldn't be leaving him any time soon.

"Ouch..." Myrtle suddenly retracted her wing, jerking forwards.

"What's wrong?" he asked, watching her wings suspiciously. Of course, he'd forgotten to tell her about the effects of crystallisation on her wings. "Oh, right..."

"Yeah, this scale condition is–"

"C'mon, Myrtle, we both know that's a lie." He pointed a claw at her wing, a spot where he could see a shining skin-like layer of crystal growing just beneath the scales. "The doctor told me about it."

"...Okay, fine." She sighed. "But I'm tryna do somethin' about it. I'm keeping away from spirit gems."

"That's good to hear. I don't think it's bad if you don't have many, just try not to go overboard."

"I'll do my best." She grinned. "Anyways, we should probably head back to bed. It's bloody cold out here."

"...I think I'm gonna wait out here a bit longer," he said. "You can go back. I'm just gonna look at the stars for a while."

"Welp, alright." She turned around, opening the sliding door. "Goodnight... or, well, I should say good morning."

She shut the door behind her and then he was alone once more. These feelings of loss... He would just have to ignore them. The pain would go away eventually, right? He could learn to forget about it?

That was what he intended to do. To him, it sounded like the right thing to do. What else could he do other than move on?

He spent a lot longer than he thought he would outside, staring into astral skies soaked in black, and muted reds and greens, to the point where he nearly fell asleep on the railing. His train of thought, however, kept him from dozing off.

Where would Drevon be now? More importantly... had Drevon _actually_ done it?

He was done being hopeful for any of his friends. The likely answer was that he had, and Roland felt like he'd failed to realise when Drevon was really hurting. Either that, or Drevon had masked the agony he spoke of very well.

He kept feeling it was the former.

He shook his head. No need to think badly of himself right now. What else could he focus on?

"...That streak in the sky," he said to himself. "What had that been?"

Magic? Technology? Just a strange occurrence, an oddity in the skies? He chose to believe it was magic of some kind. But magic had to come from somewhere. Perhaps it was a dragon, moving fast enough to create a cloudy trail behind it. Wind dragons _could_ move that fast in the air, after all, if they really put effort into it. This trail had looked more like smoke, though. Maybe his eyes were deceiving him. He'd been tired.

His eyes caught the sight of something hovering in the centre of the red moon. He had to squint. Its body grew closer with each passing second. It reminded him of the thing he'd seen with Drevon when he'd woken him up from his slumber, eager to show him something. The last time that would ever happen.

He now knew that thing had to be a dreadwing. And this was no different. As the body got closer, he began to recognise who it was, the string laced with sapphire swinging on its neck.

"Fluffy?" He bent over the railing more. Gusts of air washed over him as the dreadwing came in for the landing. The whole balcony shook with the weight, but it thankfully held firm.

The dreadwing whimpered, a soft sound he'd never heard from his monstrous companion before. Fluffy even seemed to be shivering, his skin vibrating. Roland walked over, frowning. He was lucky to have the dreadwing show up now and not when the village was teeming with life. He was curious, though, to find out what Fluffy was so startled by.

"What's wrong?" he whispered. He looked back to make sure Myrtle was still asleep. Unlike before, where she'd probably just had her eyes closed, she definitely seemed to be slumbering now. Luckily, the creature's landing hadn't jerked her from the coils of sleep.

Fluffy simply bent down. It took Roland a few moments to realise what the dreadwing was trying to say.

"Ride?" he asked, and the dreadwing nodded. Well, his short, dangerous ride with Fluffy had proven to be useful after all, for he was beginning to understand these signals. He wouldn't have to feel scared, either, because his wings no longer pained at even the thought of flying.

He screwed up his nose at the horrible scent the dreadwing carried with him, rot, blood, and... fish? He didn't mind it, though. His curiosity ripped the disgust to shreds. "Why, Fluffy?"

Fluffy didn't say anything, taking off. Roland wasn't in control, but the dreadwing didn't fly fast at all. He seemed as if he didn't want to go back, constantly shaking, fear overcoming the beast that once struck it into the hearts of many. It was weird seeing Fluffy anxious.

It made Roland anxious.

For a long time, there was nothing. Just an expanse of dark green. They didn't fly high as they exited Midrun. There was a small patch of land ahead that stuck out to Roland. He thought they were heading there for a moment, only for Fluffy to suddenly veer left, picking up speed. Roland clutched thick tufts of hair to hold on.

Down they flew, down a cliff face lit by small green and blue clusters of spirit gems, a rare sight in this world where they'd been used for power. The path that led down the cliff was lit by blueish bugs and glowing embers, stopping at a beach and a wooden dock right at the base of the hill. As they neared the timber platform, Roland thought they were going to turn, only to swiftly change directions once again, towards the rocky outcroppings and cavernous cliffside that held Midrun above the waves.

It was five minutes before Roland saw it. They flew through an expansive cave. Roland wished he had been able to bring his lantern with them, long lost in the ruins of Firemore. It turned out he didn't need it, for the strange light that glowed around the corner would be enough to light the way.

It was a glowing blue. At first he thought it was those blue bugs, but he couldn't be more wrong.

There was an object in the centre of the cave. It... pulsed. A fleshy, bulbous thing, pumping blue blood. Tendril-like veins curled along the rocky floor, wrapping around spirit gems that barely glowed, power sucked straight from within.

He was immediately disgusted when Fluffy landed. It was like a heart ripped straight out of the body, but somehow still living. Every time it pumped blood, it made a noise.

 _Ka-thump_.

Fluffy stopped where he was. The dreadwing didn't dare move any closer. Roland was only able to stare at the thing.

He was in agreement with Fluffy, that this thing was frightening, but he was far more disgusted and, grimly, intrigued by the sight of it.

 _Ka-thump_.

Was it really a heart? Was it an egg? He didn't know. Fluffy had taken him here for a reason, however. It couldn't simply be that Fluffy wanted to show him what he'd found, could it?

He got off the dreadwing and took a few steps towards it. Somehow, Roland thought it was quickening, trying to match his own heartbeat.

He stopped where he was. The object was translucent, and a thin dark form remained within. It almost looked like a dragon, but with the two front legs missing?

A defect?

Or was it a wyvern?

 _Ka-thump_.

He got closer. He wanted to know more about it. He had a burning desire to reach for knowledge.

Fluffy screeched, but Roland had already gotten too close. The heart went from matching his own heartbeat to furiously pumping, inflating and deflating.

 _Thump. Thump. Thump._

Roland stopped moving. He was too late, though. It beat so hard and fast, the thin exterior couldn't possibly contain the energy. It slowed for but a moment. One, two, and then bang.

There was a white glow. Roland didn't feel himself lose consciousness.

He felt as if he didn't exist.


	17. Left and Forgotten

Left and Forgotten

" _...The purple dragon?"_

" _Yeah,_ the _purple dragon," Myrtle replied. "Didn't even know one existed before I met 'em on the streets."_

" _Neither!" Roland looked past Myrtle. Those shimmering purple scales... Never did he think he would see the day the old prophecies would come true. This was incredible!_

 _When he thought of purple dragons, he thought of heroic creatures, ones destined for greatness. Bravery incarnate, the true embodiment of heroism. But he had to frown. This purple dragon... didn't look heroic at all. He was shivering. Scared. As if he was a_ normal _dragon._

 _Maybe Roland had been wrong. He did_ look _just like a normal dragon. A normal child, like he. Nothing special, except for the scales._

 _Was that why he was so scared?_

 _Roland kept his voice down, a need to ask emerging anyway. "Why's he so... afraid?"_

 _Myrtle laughed. Even if she was only slightly older than him, she'd always been smarter, able to understand these things. Her young looks and unending need to swear in every second sentence actually gave way to quite a bright mind._

" _I'd say he's been through a bit," she said. "He told me they ran from home. I understand. I sorta had to do the same. I was..._ _Well, let's just say my mother wasn't very happy with me."_

" _Huh... wait,_ they _?" He eyed the purple dragon, who was watching something on the floor. It only occurred to him then that there was a green dragoness with the purple drake, half the size of them all. She looked only seven._

" _That's his sister. Pretty sure he said her name was... Carolin?" Myrtle itched at her chin. "Didn't give me his own name, though."_

" _I don't like this." Seth, who'd been waiting behind in the shadows, finally stepped forward. The brown dragon towered over them all, even at only thirteen years of age. Roland would've been scared, and he had been for quite a while, but that brown dragon_ was _his best friend. Seth looked cruel and unkind; his appearance – what Roland liked to call ugliness – simply didn't do him any justice._

 _Roland lifted a brow over his statement, however. "Why not?"_

" _You ever heard what the purple dragons are capable of?" Seth asked. Roland nodded, but Seth didn't seem to take that as an answer. "No, you're too young to really know. Has anyone ever told you the story of Spyro?"_

" _Yeah, he was a hero!" Roland jumped in glee. "He beat up Malefor and took the throne!"_

" _And then he went absolutely mad," Seth continued for him. "They say stress got to him, and then the dark power went to his head. He murdered his own mate before being decapitated by his son, who was a part of the elite guard at the time."_

" _What's decapitated mean?" Roland tilted his head. Seth sighed._

" _His head was cut off."_

" _...Oh."_

" _If anything," Seth said, "we can't trust the purple dragon. We don't know what he's capable of. He could very well destroy us all if we're not careful. He's like a bomb waiting to explode."_

 _Roland looked at the purple dragon in fear for a moment. But... surely they weren't all the same. Of course, he'd only ever heard of Malefor and Spyro, and that was as far as history wrote for the purple dragons, but that wouldn't make whoever came after bad. He was almost certain this purple dragon wouldn't be like them._

" _Well, I wanna talk to him anyway," Roland exclaimed, turning away from the taller brown dragon. He thought he heard a low growl come from Seth, but he ignored it. Myrtle shrugged and followed closely behind him._

 _Beneath a streetlight stood the purple dragon and his younger sister. He appeared to be whispering comforting words to her, and she was shivering with what Roland assumed was terror. Either that or she was cold from the air and the rain pattering against their scales._

 _Roland cleared his throat, the purple dragon turning his head. Purple eyes stared into golden ones for the first time._

" _Hi!" Roland said. "What's your name?"_

" _M-me? M-my name is.. is..." The dragon mouthed it, but no noise came._

" _I can't hear you over the rain! Speak up!"_

" _...D-Drevon. My name's Drevon."_

* * *

Roland gasped, swinging wildly, as if he could reach out and draw in oxygen. His lungs were starved; he felt like he'd been drowning, diving deeper into an ocean that wanted nothing more than to engulf him, his body paralysed. He clutched the rocky floor, holding onto a cracked stalagmite jutting out of the ground. Everything felt like it was moving slowly; his vision was tinted with a bleary blue.

It went away in a few seconds. He took deep, calming breaths.

A loud body approached him and he turned in fright, only to find Fluffy at his side. The creature whimpered, sniffing him, as if that would do any good. Roland waved Fluffy's concerned face away from his.

"I-I-I'm okay," Roland said. He breathed hard, to the point he could almost feel his lungs inflating, before wrapping a leg around the rock, as tight as a knot. "I'm fine..."

Something oozed down his nostrils, onto his lip. He didn't even have to look at the paw he placed beneath his nose to tell what it was. Why was he bleeding? Was he injured anywhere else?

He looked at his body, but that seemed to be it. He wiped the blood off his nose, thoughts turning to his sudden flashback.

"...Strange."

Why had he seen it? Was it the heart?

He looked to where the odd heart-like object had been positioned, but now it was gone. Faintly glowing ooze covered the floor, like the entrails of a million dead glow bugs. Whatever had been inside of it was gone, too. The stone floor was cracked and broken, and where the heart had been lied a small crater. The heart exploding must have caused that.

An explosion powerful enough to destroy some of the cave, yet he wasn't hurt, even though he was standing right beside it.

Within the blue goop were also strange orange crystals. He'd seen them in Firemore as well, when he'd woken up, and assumed they were nothing more than shattered riches from some wealthy family, but these ones certainly hadn't been there before. Were they spirit gems? He'd never seen an orange one before.

Roland let go of the stalagmite, Fluffy watching carefully as he neared the site of the blast again. He bent down and lifted a shimmering chunk to his eyes.

It didn't have that same feeling, of energy coursing within. Yet it was familiar. He couldn't place a claw on it. He'd barely seen it before, but he felt like he was supposed to know what it was without even thinking about it. When it wasn't obscured by the blue light, the substance glowed an abnormally warm amber, like gentle candlelight.

And, weirdly, it seemed to be shrinking with each passing moment. Very, very slowly, evaporating like rainwater.

"How odd..."

By now, his breathing had calmed, and he dropped the stone to the ground. The crystal looked surprisingly inexpensive, but each chunk was vanishing with time. He would've loved to earn a little money.

But of course, there were more important things than that at the moment. His greed could wait another day. He'd almost forgotten that he'd left Myrtle alone in their room.

He took the pocket watch from Garv's satchel, and read four-thirty in the morning. The heart had knocked him out for longer than he'd thought.

He took a good look at Fluffy. "We better get back. Fluffy, _ride_."

Fluffy followed his commands, lowering himself to the floor. Roland would've flown back, but this dreadwing was far faster than he, and Roland didn't have the energy to fly the ten-minute journey back.

He climbed atop Fluffy's back. "Back to where we were. Where you found me. The inn. Whichever one of those works for you."

The dreadwing took a running start before leaping into the air, heading through the cave the way they'd come, across the seas and back to the inn.

"I need you to go somewhere else, Fluffy," he told the dreadwing as they landed. Fluffy cocked his head. "Um... _leave_. Find me later."

Thankfully, Fluffy seemed to listen. He launched himself off the balcony again and disappeared into the night.

Roland was happy to find Myrtle still asleep, so he climbed into bed. He was confused by what he'd seen, a memory of the past. Why had his dreams turned to that? It seemed far too coincidental to dream of that, something he barely even remembered, so related to what had happened earlier.

And that strange feeling earlier. He'd felt like he wasn't even in a physical plane of existence, like he'd been ripped from his own soul. What was all that about? Perhaps it was all the blue goop. He didn't seem to be covered in the stuff, though.

Maybe he was just analysing this information too much, like everything else. That was probably it. Fluffy had probably just been scared of something, and even if he couldn't figure out what it was, it couldn't be at all important to him. He chose to accept he'd just seen something weird.

But he didn't think he could accept no answers for very long.

"What d'you mean a... blue pulsing heart _thing_?"

Myrtle stared at Roland from her bed as if he was a lunatic. He almost felt that way. He found it hard to believe that eldritch horror had even existed, but he knew it was there. Its deep thump still beat a rhythm into his mind.

"You remember Fluffy?" he asked. She shook her head. "The dreadwing we saw at the spring?"

"Oh... yeah. But its name's Bone Grinder?"

"I decided that was too much of a mouthful and nicknamed him Fluffy," Roland said.

"You're callin' it _Fluffy_?" Myrtle's narrowed gaze thinned even more. Much like Harper, Myrtle didn't like the dreadwing much. Of course, she simply hadn't had much experience with him yet. She'd learn to grow used to the beast.

"Yeah, but that's beside the point." Roland moved towards the door, Myrtle following him. He bent his limbs and stretched before grasping the handle. "Fluffy took me to a cave he found and, low and behold, there's this _thing_ in the very centre. I have no clue what it was, but when I got close to it, it exploded and knocked me out. I had a dream of the time we met Drevon, and then I woke up surrounded by orange crystals."

"Weird..." Myrtle frowned. They headed through the empty hallway, towards the stairs. Most of the people staying here had apparently left. He'd heard Harper knock on his door a few minutes ago, which had roused him from his slumber, telling him to meet up in the lower portion of the inn. His pocket watch had struck ten-thirty.

Myrtle stopped in her tracks halfway down the hallway. Roland looked back; she seemed to be processing something new.

"...Orange crystals. Like the ones around you in Firemore?"

"Oh, so you saw them, too?" He was delighted to hear that, to have someone back him up in this. He'd been thinking about whether what he was seeing was fantasy or not. If he really was just going crazy.

"Well, yeah, I did find you when you looked, y'know, dead," she explained with a slight chuckle. "I wondered what they were. I'd never seen anythin' like 'em. Orange spirit gems don't exist, so I have no clue what they are. For them to just suddenly appear like that...?"

They started walking again. Roland shrugged.

"I have no clue, Myrtle. I have so many damn questions, yet it doesn't feel like I'm getting any closer to the answers."

"It seems important, Roly," she said, "but I would just ignore it. If I was to suggest anythin', though, maybe the crystals came from the rocks when they blew up? You ever considered it might just be a natural gemstone?"

"Crystals don't just _shrink_ , though." He reached the staircase and padded down each step. Each board hummed with age. "Unless they're spirit gems."

"Then I have no fuckin' clue."

He breathed a long soundless sigh. "This really annoys me. I hate not being able to find answers."

"I know, Roly. You obsess over issues." They reached the bottom of the staircase, emerging in the much larger bottom floor. The place looked abandoned, except for a few sitting around, lonely, at the tables. Half-full glasses were splayed about haphazardly, and the floor was wet with ginger beer. He would've liked another taste, but he'd probably had enough ginger beer to last him a lifetime now. He really didn't think he would be getting drunk ever again. He still felt groggy and tired after it.

Myrtle punched him gently in the shoulder. "But... if you hadn't obsessed over all our issues, nothin' would've ever been solved."

"Oh, please, I haven't done that much." He scanned the room for the group he'd travelled with. They sat in the same booth they had the night before, chatting about something. Tris was once again the first to meet his gaze, eagerly telling the others about his arrival.

"You've done plenty enough." Myrtle grinned. "Anyway, let's go and see your other friends. And Ashlyn."

Harper was the very first to speak up when they arrived. Strangely enough, the cheetah wore a smile, and he tipped a new broad hat he'd acquired, brown in colour. "Good morning, Roland. And to you, too... Myrtle, I believe?"

"Yeah, that's right." She stopped in front of him, standing a little straighter in the presence of a stranger. "We didn't really get a chance to speak."

"I do apologise for that," he said. "I can't help myself when drinks are involved, especially when said drink is ginger beer. And I should also apologise to you as well, Roland."

"Me?" Roland was a bit shocked to hear that. "What for?"

"I've let my anger and frustration get to me too much and I feel as though I've loosed some of that upon you." His voice was sincere. Roland had grown used to that grumpiness, and now it had already disappeared. He felt a bit guilty having to listen to this, considering he was the main cause of Harper's frustration, or at least one of the causes, all for petty shits and giggles. "I am sorry for that."

Roland smiled weakly. "It's fine. I was being a bit of a dickhead anyway."

"The blast has been taxing on us all, and I've failed to realise that," Harper said, adjusting the sword by his side. "All we can do now is remain optimistic and help each other out. There is no point in anger or moping."

Tris, who sat next to Ashlyn, spoke up. "Anyway, enough sappy stuff. Are we leaving for Warfang soon?"

"Patience, Tristana." Harper looked to Roland. "Are you coming with us still, Roland? Or are you going to stay in Midrun?"

"I..." He'd decided he wanted to head to Warfang earlier, but he was at a loss now. Did he really want to go anywhere? He didn't have to anymore. He could do whatever he wanted. The options were as limitless as the skies. "I... don't know."

"Have you given what's waiting for you here any thought?" the cheetah asked. "There are plenty of opportunities for you."

He knew that; he was just having a serious case of choice paralysis. He had so many options, but what in the name of Ignitus would he choose?

"It would depend on what you want to do, Roland," Tris said. "Do you wanna be a thief still? If so, I'd pick Warfang. It's bigger, and there's more people to steal from, and–"

"We should _not_ be encouraging him to carry on with that, Tristana," Harper hissed. "There is an orphanage here for you, Roland, though I doubt it's a good place to be. Warfang has far better facilities. But if you're sick of the city life, perhaps this would do you well."

Roland looked to Myrtle. "What do you wanna do, Myrtle?"

"Me?" She didn't look like she'd given it any thought either. She'd probably been waiting for his decision. "I... have no clue. I'm followin' you no matter what, Roly, but I guess... I guess I would like to go to Warfang. Pursue an actual education. I never got much of a chance back in the Shattered Vale."

"Really?" He couldn't suppress his surprise, or the laugh that came from his maw moments later. "What happened to Miss 'who wants to learn a bunch of boring maths and elemental techniques we already know'?

"Oh, shut up, Roland." She glared. "You wouldn't understand."

"Wait... you wanna study to become a–"

"Do _not_ say it!" Myrtle urged. The word 'musician' was hanging on the end of his tongue. Somehow, that embarrassed Myrtle greatly, but he chose to respect her wishes, else bear the wrath of the stronger earth dragoness.

"Now I'm curious." Tris giggled.

"Well, Myrtle, if you wanna go to Warfang, I'll go to Warfang, too," Roland answered. "Can't have you going off... _unprotected_." Myrtle glared shortly at him, but he ignored her irritation. "What about you, Ashlyn? What are you gonna do?"

Ashlyn, who'd been sitting in the corner of the leather seat largely ignored, staring into the translucent depths of her ring, flinched in surprise. "O-oh, me? I-I'm staying with you, Roland. Like I said."

He sneaked a look at Myrtle. She didn't seem particularly impressed, but maybe that was only her blank expression. Her feelings were indecipherable.

"Then it's decided." Harper lifted himself from the seat. He wore a thin, genuine smile. "We are travelling to Warfang together. Our larger numbers will be safer, especially when we cross through the Everlost Forest and pass Shimmervale."

"Isn't there any other way around?" Myrtle asked. Roland hadn't heard much of Myrtle's journey to Firemore from the Shattered Vale; all he'd ever heard was that she'd originated from there, and had suffered a knife wound of some kind before she left. When he'd asked, she hadn't at all wanted to speak about it. If anything, she was genuinely annoyed over the thought of it, and he could only wonder why. Maybe she was irritated at herself for going the long way around, but the again, the Dustlands were a dangerous place, seemingly covered in as many outlaws as grains of sand.

"Unless you wish to cross through the Burned Lands, or sail through serpent territory, there is no other way." Harper folded his arms, leaning against the wall of the booth. "It is much safer through the forest. There is a direct path to the other side, courtesy of the birdfolk. I assume you have some experience travelling, Myrtle?"

"Yeah, I, uh... got lost in there once," she replied. He could only imagine how stressful that would be, especially for a much younger dragoness, all by herself. It was clear to him now why she didn't want to speak of her past. "I guess that's why they call it the Everlost Forest. Lucky to find a Goldhorn in there, I was, who led me out."

"Do not fret," Harper said, voice comforting. "We won't stray from the path. As long as we're careful, we should be out of harm's way for all of our trip."

Myrtle grumbled slightly, but only nodded. Tris spoke up after a few seconds of silence.

"Well, are we going?" She stood, followed by Ashlyn, who appeared to be trying her best to keep away from everyone else.

Harper shook his head. "No, we must prepare first. We need to stock up on rations, and I need to sharpen my blade. I don't expect our journey to Warfang to be perilous, but it would be for the best if we take the necessary precautions."

"Should we separate?" Ashlyn asked. "Go and buy the things we need, come back here after?"

"I suppose that would be for the best." Harper placed a paw to his chin. "Well, you four can go in groups of two and purchase what we need. We'll meet again in an hour. I need to sort out my weapons and buy ammunition, and they don't exactly allow children in the, uh... gun stores."

Everyone nodded in unison. Roland looked around at three dragons, wondering who he'd take with him.

"Alright." Myrtle appeared to be doing the same thing as he, but her gaze missed Ashlyn. Intentionally or not, he didn't know. "Roland, who do you wanna go with?"

He shrugged, but then a devious thought came to mind and he just had to smirk. "Well, I'll go with Ashlyn." And then he got closer to Myrtle. "That'll give you some alone time with Tris."

"Oh, fuck off," she hissed back. "I am _not_ interested in her. She's... Sh-she's way too girly."

"Whatever you say," he replied much more loudly. "You wanna come with me, Ashlyn?"

"Uh, sure." Her eyes darted to meet his, but she didn't join his side. He wasn't sure why. Maybe she didn't want to be near Myrtle.

"Alright. I trust you with my daughter, Myrtle," Harper said, earning a growl from Tris.

"You say that like I can't defend myself."

"I don't mean it like that." He scowled. "I just don't want your emerging need to fool around getting in the way of our objective, and Myrtle seems more level-headed than even three copies of you."

Myrtle almost laughed at the compliment, but Tris seemed bummed to hear that. That same beaten down expression sorrowed the yellow dragoness' face, and Roland could only think that Harper was being a _little_ unfair.

"Alright, let's go." Roland motioned to the door. "We've wasted enough time as is."

"Yes, let's move." Harper took the lead, followed by the four dragons.

Roland wasn't sure what he was getting into. He had hopes the trip would go fine.

He let out a sigh as they crossed through the door, entering the busy streets of Midrun.

He wished Drevon was there to share the journey with him.

* * *

Roland weighed a pouch of copper in his paw, clenching his fist around the coins. The streets were bustling, especially for a small fishing town. Ashlyn walked the cobble path beside him, watching her wavy reflection in the narrow mole-made river flowing towards the cliff face and the beach far, far below.

"I came here a while ago, and it definitely wasn't as packed as this," she said. "A lot of these people look like they're preparing to head the same way as us."

Dragons, moles, cheetahs, even a few atlawa, the llama people of the Dragon Realms, rushed about, gathering necessary preparations for the trip ahead, like him and Ashlyn. Some, however, just seemed to be looking at the markets and houses along the street, probably wondering if Midrun would be a suitable town for them to set up in. He understood the appeal, and in fact wouldn't mind living in such a small community, but Warfang's great gates were too tantalising to resist, and the only friend from the sewers he had left wished to go there. He'd already decided and wouldn't change his mind now.

"How much do you think we'll be able to grab?" He tossed the silk pouch through the air, Ashlyn catching it with her teeth by the black band tied around it. It was a weighty thing; it'd be able to buy enough supplies, he felt. He wasn't sure if they'd be able to afford much of the rarer commodities, like red spirit gems, but if it came to that, he always had experience in the art of theft. Of course, he'd rather not in such a busy place.

"Enough to get us through the forest, at least," she explained, "and with the combined total from Myrtle and Tris, probably enough to get to Shimmervale, though we probably won't be stopping there because of their... unique laws against other creatures."

"The thought scares me, you know." He looked at a high red stall, the wooden desk lined with smoked fish from the Salamander Sea. He was tempted to buy some, but his hunger could wait a bit.

"Uh... what scares you?" she asked, passing the pouch back.

"Just that there was a complete dragon takeover there. And it happened really recently, too, only a couple decades ago. I know they're dragons like me, but it scares me to think about what might happen if it spreads. What if we become like those Lingrad dragons?"

"I hope we won't," she said. "These extremists aren't joking around, but let's hope the Dragon Realms don't become... well, the _Dragon_ Realms. Guardians have a huge political influence, and most of them are for interspecies integration, so I don't really see it happening."

"Yeah..." He eyed the stalls, almost bumping into a larger dragon in a rush to obtain supplies in the process. He couldn't help but emit a low growl at the dragon. "Anyway, we're here to grab supplies, not talk boring politics. Let's get this over with."

It took a while, pacing through multi-coloured stalls, looking through the slits between dense crowds. He noticed some were crowded around a stall selling primarily beef jerky and other preservatives, but it would take forever before he could actually purchase anything from there. Harper told him to be back in an hour; there wasn't enough time to wait. He also didn't want to be in the centre of those squabbling, barging dragons, in case he got stepped on by one of the larger ones. He'd have to find somewhere else.

He found it eventually, though, a stall with fewer people around it, tucked in an alleyway. He stopped behind the line of people, spinning his satchel around so it hung loosely off his neck and he could open it with ease. One by one the people were dismissed by the shopkeeper, a delighted mole, the reflection of a copper coin in his tiny glasses.

Roland placed his front paws atop the table so he could get a better look, Ashlyn right beside him. It took a while for the mole to notice the dragons looking over his wares, clearly used to receiving customers of a larger stature. His stall was built up from the ground to give adults a better view. Obviously, a shop made for selling travelling rations wasn't constructed for children.

"Oh, hey, lad!" the mole greeted him. "And lass! I didn't see ya there! What can I get for ya?!"

Roland was quite keen on the prime beef jerky, wrapped in a paper package; he remembered Harper saying something along the lines of jerky of any kind making a great ration for travelling, especially if emergencies surfaced and hunting didn't go as planned.

The label he read at the bottom, however, didn't satisfy his tastes. Ten copper pieces a package, and there was barely any in each. From what he'd felt, there were probably only fifty coins within the pouch, and that already was a large sum of money, especially for Harper, who'd once worked a lowly guard job. Roland had to wonder how Harper made such profit, especially with all the alcohol he apparently owned.

Perhaps he was a published writer?

"Uh, lad?"

"S-sorry!" Ashlyn said for him. He shook his mind from his thoughts, cheeks growing warm. "Uh, we'll just take... we'll take some of that one. Three of them."

She directed her claw towards the cheapest option available, which was only nearly a quarter of the price, sitting at two copper pieces each. It was, however, much larger, enough for a good few days each.

"Oh, come off it, lass, that one is _booooring_." The mole laughed. "Why not take some of my honey-glazed, smoky–"

"Yeah, we'll just take that one," Roland intervened before they could be swept up in haggling. The cheapest option was for the best; they didn't need luxury, and he assumed most of their meals would be meat and fruits cooked at the fire, anyhow. It'd be just like _The Abbatoir_ , back in Firemore. He didn't exactly enjoy the scenery, but their flame-grilled piggle was to die for.

But... maybe he could just grab a pack of that premium stuff while Ashlyn was busy dealing with the mole. He'd already handed the pouch to Ashlyn, and while she was confused, she didn't question it.

"Eh, alright then. Boring, I will say, but if that's all you kids really want..." The mole sighed, clearly disappointed, but he lifted his shoulders again in moments, the greedy smile reappearing. "That will be six copper pieces."

Ashlyn rummaged through the pouch for the amount before placing six glimmering coins upon the counter. Roland glanced behind him, gleeful to see nobody was waiting in line after them. He could enact his underhanded plan.

"Thank you, lass! Wait here for a second. I need to offer you both somethin'!"

The mole swept the coins into his paw, turning around to place them into a glass jar right behind him, shimmering with coinage. Ashlyn waited patiently for whatever this mole wanted, looking at the premium jerky, licking her lips ever so slightly. Meanwhile, Roland reached up slowly, silently dragging that small pack of prime jerky she was staring at from the counter towards him, a growing smirk on his maw. Ashlyn almost gasped, but didn't say a thing, instead choosing to uncomfortably stare at the shopkeeper opening the lid on his jar. Roland was sure he wouldn't notice; there was enough there to make it look as though nothing had been taken. He hid the pack against the wall of the counter.

"Uh, hey," Ashlyn said. Roland almost froze, thinking she was going to give him away. "Do you know where we can find spirit gems?"

Roland let out the breath he'd been holding, relieved. The mole nodded, still trying to undo the tight lid.

"Oh, y-yeah, sure!" he stammered breathlessly, his teeth clenched. "Just... head outta here and go to the right! There's a llama workin' over there who sells spirit gems and paraneda herb and... w-whatever else ya might need!" The lid came off with a satisfying pop. "Thank the Ancestors!"

"Th-th-thanks!" Ashlyn started walking off, but the mole gestured them over again.

"Eh, I said wait here! I want to sign you up for the Midrun raffle we're holding today. It's only fifteen copper pieces and you get–"

"We're fine!" Roland interrupted, turning swiftly, the package held tightly to his chest. He didn't feel like getting wrapped up in what he felt was a scam. "Thanks!"

"But–"

"Bye!" He jogged away on three paws, Ashlyn right behind him, shoving the paper-wrapped jerky into her leather satchel. The mole grumbled to himself as they left his sight.

They ran around the corner, Roland unable to help snickering. He did nervously hope the shopkeeper wouldn't notice, even if he was sure he wouldn't. Usually, he liked the attention, but this was no time for it. He just felt a need to take the risk. And, well, it had paid off!

"Roland!" Ashlyn exclaimed. "W-why did you take that!?"

He couldn't help but laugh at her expense. "Oh, he's not even gonna notice. He's too focused on his money to care."

"Y-you–"

"It's _fine,_ Ashlyn. C'mon, you wanted it, too..."

"By Ignitus..." She shook her head, but there was a smile on her maw. Even she couldn't help laughing. "I hope you don't mind me saying so, but... y-you're an idiot. A stupid, dumb idiot."

He only continued to grin. "C'mon. Let's go and get those spirit gems. I promise not to steal anything else."

"I will yell at the shopkeeper if you do."

"Oh, you better not."

"See! I knew you were going to steal more!" she said, proud of being triumphant over him. He shook his head.

"Wait, no, that's not what I..." He sighed. "Okay, fine, I was thinking about it."

Together, they followed the mole's instructions. They both pointed the store out simultaneously with enough searching, fortunately tucked away by itself like the other stall, so Roland didn't believe he would have much trouble taking anything he might need. It was strange seeing stalls like this, packed away where they couldn't be seen, but he noted there wasn't enough room on the streets for them all.

It was kind of sickening to him that all of these people were profiting off the destruction of his hometown. Surely, though, that wasn't their intention. They'd have the peoples' interests at heart, not their own. Hopefully.

Like the last one, they waited in line for their turn, but when they did end up approaching the stall, they were both at a loss for words. Sure, Roland had expected spirit gems to cost a great deal, but not _this_ much each. It was fifty copper pieces for a dull, uncut gemstone! And to think he had all the spirit gems he would ever need back in the vault...

He'd seen spirit gems when he went out flying with Fluffy, and plenty of them, too. It was clear the llama was overcharging. He'd need to concoct some other plan.

The atlawa hadn't noticed them, interested in a gemstone she'd picked up, elbow on the counter. She leaned forward in her seat.

"...Fifty?" Roland asked finally. The llama didn't even bother looking up.

"Yep. Want some?"

He frowned. "What? No? That's way too much."

"Didn't make the prices, kiddo. If you don't have the money, scram."

He shook his head. "Can't you lower it just a little bit?"

"No. Fuck off if you can't afford it."

He had to run her words through his mind several times before they finally registered. "...What?"

The llama finally looked up, slamming her hand right into the table. The crystals shook like leaves in the wind, tiny red particles shimmering in the air before swimming towards him. He felt a pinprick of energy rush through his spine.

"I don't have time for your bullshit, kid." Her fur bristled with her anger. "Buy something or get lost!"

Roland didn't even think it was worth thieving from this merchant anymore. He narrowed his eyes, his voice a murmur. "Sheesh. Learn how to run a fucking business." He looked around to find wherever Ashlyn had gone. "Come on, Ash. Let's go somewhere else."

He spun around a few times, looking towards the crowd, but couldn't find a sign of her. Where had she gone off to in such a hurry?

"Ash?" His eyes darted through sun-speckled scales and colourful fur, but she wasn't within them. It was only a moment before her voice came from right behind him, though, where the stall and its grumpy owner resided.

"C-coming!" She rushed to his side. "Let's go!"

He glanced at her in confusion before walking off. They took a few steps forward before Roland spoke up again.

"Wow, she was rude. What were you doing back there?" He cocked his head. Ashlyn was smiling, albeit sheepishly, from horn to horn. He grew even more confused when he saw a small apple pie locked between two of her toes, her satchel held in the other two. "...Where did you get that apple pie?"

"I, uh... followed your example."

It took him a few seconds, but when he caught the familiar red and green glow of spirit gems shining within, lighting the paper packages, he stared at her, mouth agape.

"You actually...?"

"Yes. I did."

Roland was shocked to see her do it by herself, and so soon after having been called an idiot by her for stealing. He wasn't able to do anything but stare in total astonishment.

Finally, after awkwardly peering into her satchel for what felt like a minute, he laughed shortly.

"You are such a hypocrite," he said. "Ancestors, Ashlyn, I didn't think you actually had it in you."

"Well, she was being a bit of a jerk, and like you said, that was way too much." She ended up shrugging, wrapping her satchel back around her neck. "While you were distracted, I swiped a few gems and herbs off the counter to her side. And I... took her uneaten apple pie."

He started walking, a new spring to his step. Ashlyn struggled to keep up with him. "You're awesome, Ashlyn. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise."

"N-no," she stuttered. "I'm awful. But she deserved that."

"Yes, you _are_ awesome!" He flared his wings. "That was amazing! I stole ten copper's worth of beef jerky. You swiped _hundreds_ of copper right from under her nose! _And_ an apple pie!"

"K-keep your voice down!" Ashlyn whispered. He suppressed the urge to laugh. She held the pie towards him. "A-anyway, I know you like apple pie, so this is for you. You deserve it more than that jerk."

"Oh, thanks!" Roland graciously accepted Ashlyn's gift. He licked his maw, unable to pry his eyes away from the pie's sugar-freckled lid. He was tempted to rip it right out of its aluminium tray and shove it into his gob. "Let's go find somewhere to sit. We still have a while before we need to get back, and I'd like to eat this before we get going."

They weaved through large bumbling forms, eyes on the market's exit, where the crowd seemed to dissipate. Roland nearly bounced through the streets, joy flooding his veins. The optimistic dragon couldn't wait to down this pie, all thanks to Ashlyn's cunning.

They stopped around a corner, next to an old church, rippled with cracks, where a short bench lay. The path was largely abandoned; the street looked like one of the oldest, many of the stone buildings out of place compared to the largely timber-based architecture elsewhere. The bench creaked with age as Roland hopped atop, and even bent slightly when Ashlyn climbed on board as well, but it held them in place.

"That was kinda fun, I will admit," Ashlyn said. He turned his attention away from the pie to look at her.

"Yeah, it was." He grinned. "These people are making money off Firemore's destruction, and they're making a lot of it, too. I was thinking about how questionable the morals behind this were earlier. I wouldn't feel bad taking a few things for myself."

"Well, they did give everyone a bed last night, _and_ free alcohol." She shrugged. "I guess they have to make all that money back somehow. I'm betting that some of it's going back to the mayor so he can pay the inns himself."

"That'd explain why they're doing it. I thought their generosity was unfounded." Roland gazed into the pie once more, peeling some of the crust away, revealing the apple flesh within. He shoved the thin piece he'd torn away into his mouth, expressing his satisfaction through a contented sigh.

There was a weak smile on Ashlyn's maw, but it was quickly lost as she glanced in both directions. This street was totally empty. He wasn't sure what she was looking for.

"Roland, I... have a question I've been meaning to ask you, since you came to the _Old Hag_."

"Yeah?" He took another bite, mouth full of fruity heaven. "What is it?"

"I..." She clenched her teeth. "Did you, uh... find Drevon? I thought he would be with you. I thought I heard him in that building, but I could be wrong."

He lowered the apple pie until it touched the seat, swallowing whatever food he had in his maw. Just the mention of Drevon's name was enough for a pit to settle in his stomach.

"Yeah," he said. "I did. He..."

Ashlyn nodded. "Sorry, I didn't mean to–"

"N-no, it's fine." He was quick to be reassuring. "When I saw him, he was very different. His scales were all cracked, he was missing his horns, and there was all this dark aether floating around him. It was scary, both for me and for him. I think I... I might've said the wrong things to him, and he ran off after knocking me and Myrtle out. He basically said he was going to end his life."

Ashlyn's mouth was parted and her eyes were busy studying the cracks in between the cobble. She didn't look up.

"Roland, I... don't know what to say."

He dropped the apple pie on the bench. His hunger had disappeared. "You don't have to say anything. Don't feel bad. It's not really your fault."

"I don't understand, Roland."

Roland knew exactly what she was getting at once again. To him, his reasoning was clear, but she was far too pessimistic to comprehend it.

"I'm an optimist, Ashlyn. You probably know that. I try to see the best in people." He looked at her, eyes confident. Hers merely swayed towards his. "I know you're not bad. You have my best interests at heart. You want everyone to be happy, but you've been denied that by Aurus."

He sighed after a while of silence. She couldn't find the words.

"Please don't feel bad, Ash," he said. "I'm already trying to deal with all of this. I just wanna forget about it and move on. Being like this isn't really helping. It's upsetting for you and it's upsetting for me."

"I... just can't help myself..." Ashlyn took a long look at the sky before turning towards him. She climbed off the seat. "Let's go back. I don't want to think about it either, Roland."

"You will if you can't accept the fact that you're not the one I'm mad it." He jumped off the seat, leaving the pie on its lonesome, forgotten. Ashlyn shook her head.

"I _know_ you're not mad at me," she told him. "That's what I have a problem with. You _should_ be mad at me. And I don't understand why you aren't."

"Well, it's not your fau–"

"Y-you've _told_ me that." She drew in a breath, quivering slightly like her scales. "B-but... you don't believe that."

His heart thumped at the words. "W-what? No, I–"

" _'I'm no different from_ _you_ ,' you were about to say, when we were sitting under the stars before the death hounds came. You don't have to lie to me, Roland. I... c-completely understand. If you don't want me around, please just say so..."

"That's not what I–"

"Myrtle doesn't want me around, obviously." She turned around. "Maybe I should just go."

"Ashlyn, stop." He walked up beside her, his wing brushing against her back. Gently, he placed the tip on one of her wings. "That was a mistake. That's not what I meant to say at all. I'm really sorry about that. It was stupid of me to say it."

Roland didn't know if she believed it. She took all these harsh things to mind, kept them churning in her already beaten heart. He guessed she was used to it. All he could really tell her was that he hadn't meant to be harmful at all. He needed to watch his words in the future. He'd make sure of it.

"And regarding Myrtle," he continued, "she needs some time. She's just a little slow, Ash. Maybe start a conversation with her about something – I'm sure she'll come around. I think awkwardly standing around and glancing at each other is just going to make things worse."

Ashlyn looked up at him, but she quickly turned away again after meeting his confident eyes.

"Ashlyn..." He sighed. "Look at me."

Once more, she turned, and this time she didn't peer anywhere else. He revealed the hurt beneath his confident facade.

"If you wanna leave and go off by yourself, I won't stop you," he said. "That's up to you. But... I'd really like you to come. At least try. You'll feel a lot better if you talk to Myrtle and let all this stuff about me hating you go. Neither of us are in a good place right now, but we'll be a lot happier if we help each other along and let go of the past, no matter how hard it is. I want you to know that I think you're a good person at heart. You just have to prove yourself."

Ashlyn opened her mouth. "D-do you think Myrtle would...?"

"Like I said." He smiled. "It'll take some time. But I bet she'll come around. She's never been difficult to please."

It took more than a few moments, but eventually, he could see her joy, however faint it was.

"Th-thanks, Roland. It means a lot."

"There's no need," Roland replied. He started walking, going back the way they'd come. "C'mon. Let's get back. We don't have anything else to do, and Harper's probably done shopping for ammo."

"Okay." She looked towards the ground for a few seconds before she lifted her head higher. He was much happier to see that. Dejection wasn't a good look on her, and it was a shame he had to see that so often. But that warm, confident smile suited her. Underneath that sadness was a fun-loving, kind dragoness, and he was glad to see that come out again.

She looked pretty with a smile.

* * *

"Alright... That should be everything. Plenty of spirit gems and jerky."

Harper reached out with his open paw, almost touching the bottom of Roland's chin. He shifted uncomfortably, unknowing to Harper's desires. The cheetah sensed his confusion.

"I would like my copper back, Roland."

"O-oh, yeah!" He placed the silk satchel back in his paw, stepping back and hitting the wall of the _Old Hag_ behind him with his dull tail blade. He cringed at his stupidity. "Sorry about that."

"And hear I thought you were stealing _my_ money," the cheetah laughed softly. "Almost all of it seems to be inside here. It's as if you didn't spend a single coin."

Ashlyn looked up at him, and couldn't help looking a little guilty, even if what she'd done was necessary. "Uh, well..."

Harper blinked a few times. "...What are you implying?"

"We, uh..." Roland adopted the most innocent expression he could. His efforts were to no avail. "We had to take a few shortcuts..."

Harper was immediately disappointed, gaze stern. "Did you _seriously_ steal all of these supplies?"

"We bought the jerky!" she admitted. "It's just that the gems were way too overpriced. They were fifty coins a crystal, and the paraneda herb wasn't much better. The atlawa there was a bit of a jerk."

"It is wrong to steal, Ashlyn," Harper scolded. "You should know better. I thought you learned that when I told you earlier."

Ashlyn, surprisingly, wasn't saddened by the lecture. Instead, she remained poised. "Would _you_ pay fifty copper for spirit gems?"

"No, because I cannot use them." Harper folded his arms. Ashlyn was defeated by this statement, and Roland couldn't help but feel a little sorry for her. Eventually, though, the cat let out a lengthy sigh. "Well, I suppose it was necessary, and there is plenty of paraneda herb for myself and you four if we are in an emergency. As long as nobody caught you and you don't end up on a list. I'm not sure how well Midrun treats its prisoners."

"It should be fine." Roland held his little paper package of prime beef jerky in front of him, shaking it gently. He couldn't wait to open up his spoils. "That mole was staring way too hard at the money he'd made to care."

"I guess I shouldn't complain anyway," Harper said, placing his paw on something to his side. "I had to do some... shady things to get my paws on one of these."

He drew a long-muzzled pistol from a holster attached to his belt, resting beside his pointed dagger. Its barrel was red and hot, ready to fire an elementally charged bullet at a moment's notice. Its cylinder glowed with fiery ammunition, six shots in their respective chambers. It was coated in a slick silver and an intricate design was carved into the black grip, wavy lines creating the form of a phoenix. It reminded Roland of Firemore's crest.

"This is an FP-6," the cheetah stated, his tone one of pride. In a swift motion, the cheetah spun it around on a claw before shoving it back into the leather holster it came from. "It stands for 'fire power; six rounds.' It's light, durable, and it gets the job done. It could put a hole through even the toughest armour."

Roland couldn't help but stare in a little awe. With the intricate design and that rare explosive tip that many an E.F. lacked, it seemed far too expensive for a guard to have his mitts on. If anything, it probably felt more wieldy than the long, obtuse rifle sitting on his back amongst all the other items tucked into the large rucksack.

"Looks dangerous," Ashlyn observed. Harper nodded.

"Yes, as dangerous as a master of the comet dash. I would tell a child like you not to put your hands on it, but you already have a deadly weapon in the form of your magic. We other creatures need these to keep up. Without them, I feel as though we would be powerless compared to your kind."

"Not that it matters," Tristana's voice came forth, stopping at Harper's side. Myrtle was with her, and Roland greeted her with a wave. She waved back and turned away. Roland couldn't help but notice she was trying to ignore Ashlyn. The ice dragoness didn't notice, staring at her paws. "It's not like you're going to be killing any dragons."

"I would not be afraid to do so if one stood in my way, Tristana."

Roland shivered at the thought. Hopefully bandits didn't exist out in these wilds. Anyone and everyone could be a threat. They'd need to make sure they were safe.

But Roland had hopes Harper wouldn't even need to use the firearm. Maybe if he was shooting a meal for them to eat at night, but not on anybody like them.

Harper looked into the distance, through the bodies covering the streets, ready to get moving towards the dragon city. The sun sat high in the middle of the sky, reflected in the waters running out towards the coast. Several fisher moles and cheetahs were preparing for a fishing trip, probably to catch fish and sell them at the markets later on.

"Well... l-let's hope you don't need to," Tris finally responded, breaking the silence between them.

"Yes. Let us hope." Harper spun to the rest of the dragons, placing his paws on his hips. He stretched with a low growl. "Anyhow... Are you all ready to leave? I say we get moving and make as much distance as we can. The less time we need to spend travelling, the better. Hopefully by tomorrow we'll reach the outskirts of the Everlost Forest."

"I'm ready," Myrtle told him. "I've got all the things we might need. Emergency rations, and some medical supplies just in case. Sorry, we spent all of your money."

"Yes, good work. And don't worry about it."

"Well, let's go, I guess." Roland looked to Harper, who had a claw pointed in the direction they were going to take.

"Alright. We're heading southeast." He started moving, and the four dragons were quick to follow his lead.

They exited the town of Midrun in good time, thankfully skipping the more crowded markets in favour of a thinner street that ended on the side of a short slope stretching into the thick grass of the wilds before them. Roland had to squint, but he soon remembered this place. He knew of that rounded depression in the ground.

The abandoned house lay only a hundred metres to his right. It left his gaze swiftly, his eyes falling to bristling blades of grass.

He'd have to hope that Drevon hadn't gone through with what he planned, but there was no running after him now to find out. All he could do was try to move on. Just like he always had.

He wanted to forget. Desperately so. But he knew he never would.

Within ten minutes, he couldn't see the abandoned home anymore. Left to rot, alone, like the memory of his best friend.


	18. Mana Theory

Mana Theory

Their journey began silently. Roland could sense unease, but for the most part, all he felt was peace.

And, of course, the cold.

Green stretched ever onward, frill-like grass brushing against his legs. Light, chilly rain fell, each drop hitting his scales sending shivers through his body. He had to readjust his scarf, still thankful for the final gift Seth had provided for him. Dragons didn't usually wear clothing, but he was willing to consider the thought of putting on a robe. The Dragon Realms did snow on occasion, but usually towards the southern end of the continent, not here. Maybe it was all the ice magic being expended overseas in Lingrad, where the Assembly's attempts to freeze over the world were happening.

He shook and shivered. He would've liked to have fire to keep himself warm, or scales like Ashlyn's, capable of repelling cold.

"You're wearing a scarf, and yet you're shivering?" Tris said, the closest to him. Ashlyn and Myrtle were walking a little further ahead, both in thought.

"Just a bit." He nodded. "I'm surprised you're not."

"Hmm... Oh, I keep forgetting. You don't have magic." Her revelation perplexed him.

"How does that have to do with me being cold?" he asked. "I mean, Ashlyn already repels the cold, but what about you and Myrtle?"

Tris grinned. "Well, I've given your problem some thought. You've told me you don't feel anything down there, which makes me think you might not have the magical 'stomach' we dragons have."

"Magical... stomach?" He'd never heard of this before. He had pondered before where all that magic went after dragons consumed spirit gems.

"It's not exactly a stomach," she explained, "It's called the _potenthalus_. It's like a bag inside our bodies. When we consume spirit gems, it gets filled up with invisible mana, like gas. If you have enough, you can feel it inside you, and it's a pretty warming sensation. Maybe you don't have one of those?"

"But I can consume spirit gems," he told her. "Even the green ones, which are specifically for recharging magical energy. If I don't have a magical stomach, then where does all that mana go?"

Tris placed a claw to her lip. "The gems are attracted to draconic elemental signatures, and you obviously have one of those. Every single dragon does. You have mana in your veins – everyone does – so that's probably why you can absorb them. Maybe you _do_ have that bag, but you have some issue down there? I've heard the mana can get blocked off, or even straight up disappears or evaporates... Hey, this might be a personal question, but have you ever taken so many gems you get high?"

"Oh, yeah, once or twice." Roland wasn't fond of the memories. He could understand why people enjoyed using them for recreational purposes, but he wouldn't ever try it again. "I had to consume a _lot_ to feel anything, though. And it definitely didn't last very long. I could barely even feel the mana, and I certainly don't feel anything now."

"When the mana in the potenthalus has nowhere to stay, it goes right to your head." Tris stopped for a moment and reached around for her satchel before pulling out a small notepad she was keeping with her. Dotted along the pages were notes and scribbles, all about magic and spirit gems. A lot of the notes seemed to be on her own electric magic, but he thought he saw his name jotted in there somewhere and he could only wonder why. Maybe it was her obsessing over the subject. She seemed like a dedicated academy student. He'd ask her why his name was there in a second.

"It makes you feel light-headed," she read from her notepad, "and you'll see all sorts of colours if you go far enough. Eventually, it all gets expelled through your breath and you'll be back to normal." She looked up from the small slip of paper. "Usually it takes a long time for it to go away, but you said it didn't last long?"

"No, not very." He shrugged. "Guess I just have problems or something."

"I've heard of mana leaks, but even then, those people can still _use_ their magic." She looked through her notes, flicking over a page. "I've never heard of anything so bad that the mana just can't be used because it drains too quickly. The only reason I can think of is if you've had your potenthalus has been punctured by something, but I doubt that's the case because nobody's managed to live after being stabbed there because spirit gems don't work without mana... This is so confusing."

He looked over her shoulder and spotted his name mentioned again, but he couldn't quite read the hasty scribbles in her moving paw. "Hey, uh... Tris?"

"Yeah?"

"Why is my name in your notepad?"

"O-oh, um..." She shoved the notepad deep into the confines of her satchel, then scratched the area between her ivory horns. "I... Sorry, I've just been thinking about how you lack an element. I didn't mean to make you concerned or anything. I was thinking about what might be wrong in the spare time I had between school, tutoring, cleaning the house, and working the forge. I was reading up on elemental illnesses late at night."

Roland wondered if the sorrow she'd had when that strange vision came to him was the cause of her endeavours. He didn't want to believe that. He was starting to think he was to blame for practically everything happening.

"Trust me, you don't have to figure it out," he reassured her. "I don't mind not having an element. Sure, I'm different, but it's normal enough to me. What would I even do with one?"

"Are you serious?!" The loud tone of her voice shocked Roland. He noticed the other three in front turn their heads simultaneously. "S-sorry!" she yelled to them. "Nothing's wrong!"

She waited until they turned away before speaking again. "I'm surprised you say that, Roland. I hate to sound obnoxious, but there's so much you can do! And I want you to be able to experience that."

"What could I do?" he questioned. He looked ahead to find they were crossing a bridge, and he nearly tripped on the steps leading up to it.

"My skills would differ from yours." She started looking over the side of the bridge, into the waters just below them, then to the high arches on either side, stretching like a colourless rainbow to the other end, a few metres ahead. "Based on your scale colour, I'd think you're either a fire dragon or an earth dragon, but the latter would be really rare for someone with red scales. There is so much you can do with fire. Aren't you able to think of all the possibilities?"

He sighed. "I _have_ thought about them, but I don't really care. I could... light a fire, I guess. That'd save me from having to click stones together."

She could only laugh at his non-existent ideas. "C'mon, there's so much more to being a dragon than just _lighting a fire_. I can zap people, go extremely fast, create light sources, charge generators... That's about as much as other people know, but the list goes on and on! What do you think you could do?"

"Plenty of things, I'm sure," he replied nonchalantly. "But I really don't care about any of them. I'm fine how I am. Having an element now would just be weird."

She was dissatisfied with the answer, but she didn't play with the idea any longer. "Okay. I just think it would be cool. We'd have nearly every type of dragon here. We'd all make up for each other's weaknesses with our own strengths, even though you're not all trained like I am."

They stepped off the bridge crossing over a section of the Faymaw. Dirt crunched beneath Roland's feet as they hit a narrow dirt path, curling slightly to his left, veering past the ocean. Trees were beginning to grow more plentiful, but many a stump lay in the area, axed for the housing in Midrun.

"Anyway, speaking of your friends," Tris continued, "Myrtle was really nice. I'm glad you sent her with me so we could talk a bit. I'm surprised how funny she is. I thought she was really awkward around strangers, but once we got a conversation going, she was so cool."

He had to laugh at that. "Yeah, I was hoping you two would get along."

"Was there any other reason you sent her with me, though?" She tilted her head, her voice lower than earlier. Clearly, she wasn't oblivious to how tense it was between Myrtle and Ashlyn. Tris caught him staring ahead and opened her mouth again. "Do they... dislike each other?"

"...I don't know if Ashlyn would be okay with me telling you. Sorry."

"No, no, it's okay," she reassured. "It's personal. That's fine."

"Why don't you tell me about your friends?" As soon as it left his mouth, he thought his suggestion would be met with sadness, and he regretted it, but she shrugged instead.

"Oh, they're... fine. They were friends, I guess. They were all I really had. I was a little worried they hadn't made it, but I heard from some people in Midrun that dragons like them were passing through." Pleasantly surprised, Roland listened on. "Maybe we'll see them in the Everlost Forest. By the way, thanks for making me feel better."

"Huh? I didn't do anything."

"I was... kind of down back in that old hut we stayed in that one night," she said. "But your joking around put me in a good mood."

"Well, it's understandable you were down. You felt like you'd lost your friends and everything. We all have."

"It... wasn't really that," she said. "I-I mean, yeah, I was upset over that, but it was more just..." She looked ahead, to make sure the others weren't listening, but they were much farther ahead, especially the cheetah. "It was just Harper being Harper. You've... noticed how he talks down to me all the time, right?"

He nodded. "Yeah, I have. He kind of sounds like a jerk sometimes if I'm being honest."

"W-well, he's... he's not a _jerk_ , but I think he has a high opinion of himself. He doesn't want to be around when I make jokes or do anything dumb. It's... kind of like he doesn't want to be associated with me at all sometimes. And he's been doing it a lot more recently."

"He's being unfair," Roland told her. "I know that much. He treats everybody differently to you. I don't think he has a super high opinion of me, but he doesn't constantly wear me down like he does with you."

"He loves me, I know that." She was certain in that opinion. Roland couldn't confirm whether he thought the same as her about it all. This didn't sound much like love to him. "He was the one who convinced me to join all those tutoring lessons. I love them. He wants to see me do my best. But, like... he only wants to see me do my best so he can have a better image in the face of others. He always hung around more sophisticated people. They praised me for my skill, but they always praised him for raising 'such a good girl.' They gave him more opportunities. It always felt like I was there to stroke his own ego."

"And when he got home from work," she continued after pausing for a moment, Roland eyeing her with worry, "he wouldn't help me with any of the housework. He was busy, but... I was also really busy when it wasn't the end of the week. There were so many days he had off as well, though, because the guard was huge at the time, and all the time I'd just come home to him drinking or passed out on the lounge. I'd have to put him to bed and then do all the cleaning and dishes and whatever else until it was time to go to sleep; he told me once that that was all I was around for, and even though it was a joke, I still sort of believed it. Then I'd practice magic all night and wouldn't get any sleep. I do enjoy studying magic, but... all this just hasn't been optimal. Sometimes, he would..."

She let out a low sigh and stopped those thoughts there. He wondered what she'd been about to say. "I wish he'd just see me as an actual person rather than... some kind of inanimate object. I feel like a punching bag. He never treated Pride the way he treats me. I didn't like Pride. He wasn't nice to me, but I was also jealous of him... Ugh, I don't know... maybe it's because I'm adopted? It's all just been starting to get on my nerves. I feel lost. I don't know what to do."

"I see..." Roland nodded. Tris just shrugged. "I... thought you had it pretty good, but it sounds like you've had it rough. I can understand that."

"I'm sure you can." The smile that'd wavered on her muzzle grew once more, but it remained weak. "Sorry about... forcing you through that. I've only known you for a few days and here I am, getting emotional. The words kind of just came out. I... feel like I'm complaining about nothing and I'm being overly sensitive, though..."

"Nah, it's okay," he said. "I'm here to listen. If it's bothering you this much, I can try to stand up for you. You don't deserve any of what's happening, especially not now. This is already hard enough for us all."

"I'd be thankful, but... there's no need. It's fine." She patted him on the back with a wing before pointing forward with a claw. "Anyway, we've fallen behind. I think we should catch up. How's about we make it less awkward between everyone? I'd like to think we're both pretty good at talking."

He chuckled before getting a move on, padding quickly across the dirt and into the grass, kicking up fluffy white dandelions.

* * *

"You have to be _really_ quiet," Tris murmured, kneeling inside the thick grass. Roland could barely see her body through yellowy blades. "You don't wanna scare it off."

He nodded, gaze fixed on the wild piggle before him, a small grey quadruped covered in thin fur. Its ears were fixed upwards, now ignoring the bush it'd been munching on in favour of the voice it'd obviously heard.

"I think _you_ need to be quiet," he whispered, nearly chuckling. Unfortunately, the piggle squealed, a high shriek not too dissimilar to that of Fluffy, only it wasn't deafening and didn't create pandemonium. It ran off at speeds he didn't expect, faster than he could ever be. He cursed under his breath.

"Oh, darn it!" she hissed.

After a short discussion with Harper and the others, it was decided he and Tris would be the ones going hunting – Harper had even suggested that there was no time like now to start learning how. Roland had decided to go because he was actually excited by the prospect, learning something new that would probably prove invaluable, despite his muscles throbbing from the five hours they'd spent walking.

Unfortunately, this wasn't going very well for either of them.

"I've never had to deal with wild piggle before." Tris sighed, scratching her head. "I can do this! I know Harper said not to use my magic just in case I burn it, but I'll have to rush at it with my magic next time. I... just wish we'd gone with a professional. Like Myrtle."

"Myrtle?" he asked, louder. "She's never told me she's a master. She didn't sound like she wanted to do it when we were back there."

Tris looked over the high grass in search of more prey. "That's what she said. She did tell me she was really good at it. Although... maybe she _was_ just trying to impress me."

"Wow, and I thought she was modest," he laughed. "Anyway, we should keep looking. The sun's starting to set and we still haven't found anything. It's been almost an hour."

"It _has_!?" she exclaimed, eyes wide. "Crap! What's Harper going to say?"

"Don't mind him." Roland crouched in the grass once more, taking silent steps forward. "Let's go."

Roland knew he was clumsy, but he was awfully quiet when he sneaked about. He knew how to suppress that noise. He could've easily mistaken his own movement for the grass swaying and rustling in the light breeze. Tris, however, seemed to make a lot more noise than him. Clearly, she was no master. They'd had several piggles already run off before Tris could even get close to one, all because she alerted them.

"You sorta make a lot of noise when you move around. Piggles have very sensitive ears." He knew that bit of information from the time he'd spent in _The Abattoir._ "They can probably hear you breathing. Try to watch where you're walking as well."

"I thought I was the one teaching you?"

He chuckled. "Guess not."

"Well, if you're so sure of yourself," she said, pouting, "why don't you go ahead? I'll stay back and let you work your magic."

"Don't have any, but sure." He grinned. "Just don't ruin my flow."

"Your flow... What the heck is that supposed to–"

He shushed her. Another piggle sat right ahead through the grass, studying its stubby little legs. Its pointy ears shot skyward, already having heard them speak.

He didn't move a muscle. The piggle's beady eyes darted about, searching for the threat. He hoped his unpolished, mucky scales would conceal him from the view and the red wouldn't stand out.

Thankfully, it went back to chomping on the bush in its mouth. He didn't release the breath held in his throat, though. Quietly, he lowered himself to the ground, in a position to pounce upon the piggle and make it submit. Of course, he'd never done this before, he was just doing what he felt was right, allowing his own instinct to take over. He might've been a civilised dragon, but some things did feel natural to do.

He clenched his paw, his choice of weapon a claw. He breathed softly through his nose, eyes narrowing in concentration.

He stayed put for one more second, and then leaped forwards, tackling the piggle with him. It screamed and squealed in his ears, kicking and trying to bite, but he had the weaker animal secured. He quickly raised a paw, claws glinting in the sunlight before pressing them into the piggle's neck.

It stopped squirming. He felt blood gush over his claws. He felt... sick.

"Wow, Roland. I'm impressed!"

Tris ran up to him. He couldn't stop looking at the dead carcass in his paws. He saw Garv down there, his pleas for death filling his mind. _Do not hesitate_. Why did this feel wrong?

"Are you okay? You're shaking."

"I-I'm fine." He was loud, serious, realising he was quivering. He'd never killed an animal before. Garv had wanted it. This animal didn't...

"...It's alright." She smiled weakly. "I had a hard time killing my first animal, too, but they _are_ just animals and there's tons of them around. You've probably eaten plenty of them before. It's essentially just the same thing, except you have to do the work yourself. Don't think of them as living creatures; think of them as food. Really tasty food."

She was right. He was worrying over this too much. He'd basically already killed so many before, only he didn't have to do the dirty work. One less piggle in the world wasn't going to harm anything.

This was only natural. He was glad it wasn't another dragon.

"I'm annoyed, you know," Tris said. Her grin had grown. "I wanted a chance to show off what I could do with my magic. I didn't want you to do it."

Roland looked down at his bloodied paw and took a quick lick. He was actually quite surprised by the taste, and if he hadn't understood why the feral dragons enjoyed drinking blood before, he certainly did now. There was a faint taste of iron in his mouth, but it also tasted of the piggle itself. He could definitely grow used to doing this if the reward was this flavourful.

The red dragon soon looked up, watching the grass rustle with movement. He saw a furred grey being within.

"Well, maybe you _will_ have a chance to show me." He pointed ahead, his tone encouraging. "I'm curious as to what you can actually do."

Usually, he didn't have much of an interest in magic, but Tris had made it feel like something he _needed_ to experience. As if it were impossible to live without. And what better way to learn what such a thing could do than from the self-proclaimed master herself?

Of course, he also would've found it funny if she failed.

"Watch this." She wet her lips, crouching down. Sparks trailed along her cunning smile. One moment she was hunkering down, the next she released an arcing missile that homed in on the target ahead. The electric arc struck true, launching the piggle into the air. Its squealing could barely be heard over the loud zap and the sparks swallowing its form.

Then, Tris rushed forwards, jumping only to slam the piggle into the ground with a charge. She buried a horn into its body, and Roland could see the blood squirt, flecking her face.

He felt a little sick watching her go overboard on it, but he had to admit that her attacks were impressive. He'd never seen anything like it. He could only wonder what the consequences of this magic would be if dragons actually used it in the duels they partook in for sport. Thankfully, those duels were _heavily_ regulated.

He wondered why and how Tris was studying techniques that were designed to kill anyway. He knew classes existed for such a thing, but these abilities would only ever be taught and learned by somebody who had a real intent to kill. Or, of course, protect.

Tris raised her head and wiped the red from her face before licking her paw, rather proud of what she'd accomplished. She lifted the body with both front paws and threw it up before it landed on on her back, the hole in the piggle's chest holding tightly onto one of the many spines lining her back. Shockingly, she didn't seem to mind getting her scales all bloody, red already trailing down her once gleaming yellow scales; he didn't take her for somebody willing to get her paws dirty, not like him.

"Do what I do," she told him. Roland lifted the corpse in front of him, a little disgusted, before tossing it onto his back. It took a couple attempts to get it to hold, but it eventually landed in a place it would remain tight. It wasn't like he could carry the thing in two paws and walk on his hind legs; that would look and feel uncanny.

Tris walked up beside him, a tiny smile on her maw. Roland looked at his feet.

"I could've done a lot more," she said. "But I don't want to ruin the food... Harper's probably going to get mad at me for burning it."

The scent of singed hair sat beneath Roland's nose. It smelt far worse than he thought it would, and almost ruined his appetite.

"Let's get back." Roland started walking faster. "I want nothing more than to get rid of that smell."

"You know," Tris began, tilting her head, "you seemed a little shocked when I killed that piggle. Was it the magic?"

"Just a bit, yeah." He shrugged. "Um... why do you know all this magic? What made you want to learn? That stuff looked really deadly."

"I've been asked that question a lot." She nodded in understanding. "Well, the electric Guardian in Firemore was getting old. She decided she was retiring soon, but before she did, she needed a student to take over for her. I was about twelve at the time that was announced – I'd just gotten my element a few months before, right on my twelfth birthday – and while auditions weren't going to open up for a long while yet, I decided I wanted to study electricity and master all it had to offer. I wanted to become the next Guardian."

"So you had to study all these deadly abilities, too?" Roland had never seen a Guardian use dangerous elemental magic before. Elements were important to all dragons, according to everybody he'd spoken to about the subject, but never were they used in such a way that they could hurt or kill, unless there was an intent to do just that. It gave some dragons meaning; earth dragons tended to work with moles in construction and engineering, and electric dragons made a good alternative source of power to spirit gems if the crystal farms were having a bad year. "Why would you ever need to use those?"

"Guardianship requires a strong understanding of the element in question," she answered. "Guardians are political figures, but they're also war generals if the time calls for it. And in that case, you... kind of need to know how to kill things, Roland."

"Plus, that lightning arc wasn't all that deadly," she continued. "It stuns, but it doesn't kill. If I gave that piggle a moment, it'd run away as if nothing ever happened to it, only its hair singed slightly. The most basic of electricity, the stuff most people only know, is almost incapable of killing. It takes some serious power to shoot what is practically lightning from your mouth. And while I have learned how to do that, I wouldn't _ever_ use it against anyone unless the situation called for it. I don't want to hurt anyone; all of this is just a requirement for becoming a Guardian."

"Well, I'm glad to know you won't kill me!" He grinned. Tris laughed for a short while before her eyes suddenly went serious.

"I just hope I don't get mad at someone and try to zap them. Magic can be emotionally charged. It's where the name 'fury' comes from." She sighed. "With what I can do, I could very easily hurt someone. Harper was the one who suggested I try to become a Guardian and learn all this dangerous stuff, and I was fine with that, but when I really did hurt somebody once, I nearly reconsidered what I was doing."

"Who?" Roland asked, but Tris shook her head. He was joking when he said he was glad she wouldn't kill him, but she definitely had the capacity to. That was worrying in itself.

But any weapon could hurt and kill. Earth magic was deadly, fire was deadly, swords were deadly, guns were deadly... The list went on and on. His _claws_ , though blunted by wear and disregard, were deadly. Everyone was constantly living around weapons. But people kept the peace. Nobody wanted to get hurt. Laws were created under the Treaty of the Great Twelve so people wouldn't resort to harming each other.

And Tris sure as hell didn't seem like she wanted to hurt him.

"It doesn't matter anymore. They came out of it fine." She smiled despite herself. "Anyway, magic is dangerous, yes, if it's used in the wrong paws. I'd never use it against someone intentionally unless I had to. Of course, it's not like any of this matters anymore, because... Firemore blew up."

"Well, I dunno if the Guardians in Warfang are gonna die soon." He placed a paw to his muzzle, tapping his chin. "Maybe... you could become a teacher?"

"I like that idea, but I'm talking about all the dangerous stuff. Barely anybody needs that kind of education."

"No, I mean like the tutor you had," he explained. "When you're older, you could teach a class of children or something. Self-defence, maybe?"

"Maybe..." She raised her shoulders. "I'll have to think about it. We'll get to Warfang first and then I'll start thinking about my options. I still have another two hundred and fifty years left in me. I'm more focused on everything that's happened and... Harper at the moment."

"Alright... Anyway, we shouldn't be far from the others now." As soon as he made it up the top of the slope they were climbing, he could see his other companions sitting down and waiting in the distance for dinner to walk itself to them.

"Wanna race me?" She smirked, knowing full well what happened last time. Roland gave her a distrusting glare.

"Sure, but no elements. Only running."

"Fine by me." She crouched low to the ground. "Count us down."

"Alright." He got into position, flexing his paws. "Three, two–"

"Go!" She sprinted off, kicking loose grass right into Roland's mouth. He spat and coughed.

"Hey!" He dashed after her, making sure the piggle wouldn't fall off his back. She was already far ahead, but he could catch up. "You're more cunning than me, and I'm a thief!"

She wasn't beating him this time.

* * *

The cheetah turned two piggle carcasses on a spit over a crackling fire. Fat simmered and popped on the open flame. Little blue bugs hovered about, lighting Harper's creased brow. Tris sat nearby, waiting for something. At first he thought her thoughts were on the food, but that worried look, and the fact she hadn't received a lecture, yet put Roland at unease.

Ashlyn and Myrtle were nearby, on opposing sides of the fire, staring into the flames. Myrtle's teeth were clenched, her eyes fixed on the dancing flame. The blue dragoness lay on her stomach, watching the bugs flittering and dancing, playing about the meat. Roland could only guess what they were thinking about. He was still waiting for Ashlyn to talk to Myrtle, like he'd suggested to her.

They couldn't keep waiting. He could barely deal with this growing tensity. It would be best if they solved their issues early.

He tried to distract himself with the scent of charred, grilled piggle flesh. His stomach groaned at the sensation; he couldn't wait to rip off a leg or two.

He leaned, falling to his back. Dry leaves crunched beneath him, some of the last as winter arrived. The tree high above was barren, pointed and sharp, like daggers. There were birds up there, small creatures bouncing about the twigs.

There came a sound like wind rushing, and the twigs snapped. Suddenly, all the birds were gone. Roland sat up with a jolt, looking about, wondering if he'd imagined it. Nobody noticed, occupied mostly by thoughts.

Then, there was a loud stomp that broke everyone's concentration. All eyes darted to Roland, and he knew instantly there was a monster behind him.

But he didn't even have to look to know it was Fluffy. He'd become accustomed to that smell. He'd forgotten the dreadwing existed for a while, engaged in other things.

"Hey, Fluffy." Roland looked up into the dreadwing's unusually soft yellow eyes, reaching up with a paw to rub at the dreadwing's neck. Fluffy leaned in.

"I-I swear to the Ancestors, Roland." Harper shivered. It wasn't the cold doing that, obviously. There was a fire. "If that damn thing materialises like that again..."

"He's _fine_ ," Roland said. "Just ignore him if you don't like him."

"A bit hard to ignore your giant pet dog, Roly." Myrtle looked away, going back to staring into the fire. She grabbed a stick from a bundle beside the campfire and poked at it, stoking the flames. "I feel like it's gonna eat me if I ain't starin' at it. Don't want anything to do with it."

"Finally! Somebody who is as sane as I am." Harper shook his head, going back to turning the meat on the spit.

"Aww, come on, Fluffy isn't _that_ bad." Tris laughed. The cheetah looked down at her, rolling his eyes, before going back to his task. "I'm sure Fluffy was just mistaken at first. He seems friendly. You're friendly, aren't you, Fluffy?"

The dreadwing cooed. Harper just kept on shaking his head.

Tris smiled. "He's kind of cute once you get used to the... slobbery, bite-y, monster-y feeling."

"You should _not_ be getting attached to that _monster_ ," Harper growled. "It would already be dead if Roland didn't have a need to keep it."

"Hey, look, I'm just really curious." Roland kept on scratching the skin beneath Fluffy's woolly coat. As it started getting colder, he'd noticed more and more that the hair was getting thicker and tougher. "I wanna know why Fluffy decided I was his friend. I'm pretty sure he was looking specifically for _me_. Why am I so special?"

"Special? You're unlucky." Myrtle, despite her wavering nerves and irritation over the beast, had to chuckle. "I wouldn't want Fluffy anywhere near me. It smells bad. I'm glad this piggle is able to drown out that fuckin' stench."

At the very least, Roland could agree with that. He was used to living in dirty, horrible conditions, but this was a little too much for even him to bear.

The next thirty minutes went by in a flash. He almost nodded off after consuming his share of piggle, his mind eager for sleep. His sleep schedule was out of control. He managed to hold on for a little longer, though. Long enough to watch Ashlyn beckon Myrtle over.

Harper looked up from his pistol, in which he'd been lazily spinning the cylinder. "Where are the two of you off to? It is late."

"Uh..." Ashlyn shuffled in place. Myrtle's face was completely blank, but Roland could tell she was hesitant to go anywhere with the blue dragoness. Surely Myrtle knew they needed to speak about what had happened earlier, though. "I-I just need to tell her something in private. We'll be back soon."

"...Alright." Harper eyed the two suspiciously before returning his gaze to the gun. "Don't wander far. These wilds are dangerous, especially at night."

Ashlyn walked off with Myrtle in tow. The green dragon cast him a glance before wandering off. Awkwardly, he waved to her. The two disappeared, leaving three behind.

Tris scratched her head then cleared her throat. Roland looked in her direction, noticing she was holding something in one of her paws.

"Check this out." Between her claws was a segmented cube. Each side seemed to be made of a different metal, representing different colours. It glinted in the firelight.

He shifted towards her. Harper looked up for but a moment before folding his arms and lowering his head, eyes invisible beneath his broad hat.

"What is it?" he questioned. She grinned. Clearly, another one of her strange inventions.

"It's a puzzle. Made it myself." Each face of the cube was made up of nine individual squares. She rotated one of the columns, mixing brass and copper.

Roland narrowed his eyes. "...What are you supposed to do? Does it unlock something?"

"I'm going to turn the sides until it messes with my OCD," she told him, "and then I'm going to hand it to you. You have to make all the colours the same on each face again."

Roland chuckled. "That sounds frustrating. I don't think I should bother."

"Your lack of enthusiasm is frustrating." She pouted. Almost every square was mismatched now. The wildly contrasting colours made him cringe slightly. He hated how imperfect it looked. "Come on! Give it a shot!"

"Oh, fine." Roland took it from her paws. He guessed something to occupy himself with while the others were gone would take his mind off what Myrtle might be saying to Ashlyn. Roland didn't feel as though Myrtle would take kindly to the ice dragoness.

Every time he turned one of the cube's faces, he felt like he messed it up even more. Strangely, despite his irritation over the puzzle cube, he couldn't help but feel a slight addiction grow out of futilely turning squares.

"You're _really_ bad at that." She laughed. "I can solve it in twenty-one–"

"Shut up, I can do it!" he snapped back. "I am _not_ dumb."

Tris nudged him with an elbow. "You're also very stubborn. You'll never do it. There's over forty-three quintillion possible combinations."

He growled before returning to his fruitless attempts to return the cube to its former perfection. He managed to solve one side five minutes later, but turning all the other sides only messed up the other.

He sighed before chucking it on the ground in front of him. "Okay, fine. It's too hard."

She picked it up and dropped it into her satchel again, chuckling all the while. He only felt more and more embarrassed as time went on.

"So, uh..." He tried his best to direct their conversation away from his failure. "Hey, where do you come from? I've noticed you have an accent, as faint as it is."

"Oh, I lived in Lingrad." Her tone was surprisingly nonchalant. Roland was taken aback.

"Wait, where all the war stuff is going on? How did you make it out? I've heard they've blocked off all transport."

"I came here before that stuff started five years ago. It was actually a really nice place to live before all of that. Me and my parents sailed here and settled down. I think."

She wasn't with her parents anymore, though. He thought about where they were, but didn't believe it was such a good question to ask right now.

"If you're wondering about my parents," she said, somehow reading his mind, "I'm not really sure. I barely even remember them. I think I was only two years old. I remember being with them one day, and then I was in the orphanage the next."

"And then I picked you up," Harper joined in, lifting his hat slightly. "I was compelled to take you. You wouldn't stop looking at me with those damned eyes..."

"You mean these ones?" Tris opened her eyes up wide, her muzzle drooping. Somehow, Roland swore her pupils were growing. 'Pick me' was written all over her face.

"Stop that," the cheetah grunted. Tris chuckled.

"But it's _funny_." She placed her paw deep into her satchel once more, fishing for something else to speak about. Roland wondered what exciting invention lied within. "You're always like this. You can't take a joke."

"I can take a joke when we aren't in the middle of nowhere, constantly in danger." Harper's voice grew dangerously serious. Tris flinched at the tone. "Keep your racket down. You'll disturb the death hounds, and surely by then you'll realise your mistake."

"Oh, please," Roland said, "I can't smell dog for miles, other than the one right behind me. Don't worry, Harper."

Fluffy seemed to wince at the remark.

"...Alright." The cheetah sighed before lowering his head. "Let us hope those other two come back soon. Their conversation must be important if they've been gone for this long. I trust Myrtle enough to come back soon anyhow."

Roland hoped so too, but he could give them time to work it out. He only wanted the best for the both of them. If they could do it, it'd make things far easier in the long run. Conflict was perhaps the last thing he needed right now. "You could say that."

Roland didn't think they would be coming back for a while, though. He knew Myrtle had issues with everything – he could tell by the way she'd been acting, but he had hopes they could work it out.

Still, he couldn't help but feel a little worried, especially for Ashlyn. A small part of him expected things to go south, but he remained optimistic.

Minutes passed, and each one was more tense than the last. Roland couldn't help looking from side to side, even up and down, every few moments. He grew restless, awaiting Myrtle's judgement. He stared in the direction they went, his eyes only meeting the black.

He felt like it'd been an hour, yet he knew it had been twenty minutes. The sky seemed to reflect his thoughts, darkness encroaching with outstretched claws; fire drew jagged, animated shapes in the grass and across nearby oaks. No longer could he see sparse trees dotting the landscape, nor could he find any sign of the pair that'd left.

Roland itched at a leg, distracting himself from his thoughts; worry found a way to sneak in, however. Had something happened? He hadn't expected it to take this long.

Harper looked to be growing impatient. Tris looked at the red dragon and shrugged, keeping the silence.

Roland, finally, felt like he had to get up and look for them. If they were still talking, he didn't want to intrude, just see what they were up to.

"Maybe I should..." Roland trailed off, dusting grass off his chest. "I might go and check on them. I don't think–"

Snapping twigs caught his attention. He turned around in a hurry, Harper lifted his hat, and Tris looked up from the metallic cube in her paws.

He almost set himself back down, seeing Ashlyn, but when he didn't see the green dragoness, he frowned.

"You're back," Harper spoke. "But what about Myrtle?"

"She, uh..." Ashlyn sighed. "She... n-needed a bit of time to herself."

She walked into the firelight, stepping past Roland. The red dragon watched her as she set herself down.

"Where is she?" he asked. Ashlyn didn't meet his gaze.

"Not far. Just walk forward a bit. She's sitting over near a pond."

Roland assumed what he'd feared had happened.

"I'll go and get her," Roland said before anybody else spoke up. He knew he needed to talk to her. If they together couldn't solve this, he'd just have to do some nudging in the right direction. "It's... cold and dark out here. Stay, Fluffy."

Roland didn't wait for any confirmation. He turned and started jogging. The cold was harsh on his scales; the breeze played in his eardrums. Dark clouds shrouded the moons' eternal glow, and his gold eyes seemed to meet nothing, but he could pick up Myrtle's scent easily enough.

Myrtle wasn't far ahead, just as Ashlyn had said. She watched a small body of water, rippling as tiny bugs bounced about the surface. She didn't turn around, but Roland knew his presence had already been sensed.

He approached carefully, as if Myrtle were great hound waiting to bite and tear at him for his hopes and his thoughts. Something told him the conversation prior hadn't gone well. He felt a hole open in his stomach.

"Myrtle..." He sat himself next to her. Myrtle didn't bother looking up. She placed a cupped paw into the water, then raised it to her lips. "You feeling okay?"

"...No," she grunted, shaking the water from her paw. "Roland, look. I... Why do you..."

He exhaled. "I already told you, Myrtle. I know it's crazy, and I'm still getting used to her, but all I can see in her eyes is a determination to prove herself. She's... not a murderer. Far from it."

Myrtle slumped. She looked like she wanted to believe him, but couldn't bring herself to do so.

"Try looking at it from her perspective." Roland placed a paw to her shoulder. "You come from a father who wants nothing more than to use you as a weapon and hide himself under a cloak. He doesn't care at all. He'll force you to do anything, all to satisfy someone's wishes."

Myrtle looked up. "She was tellin' me about the Guardians. Is that really true? They're supposed to be enforcers of peace, but from the way she puts it... they're nothin' but pawns worshipping the Dark Master."

"She doesn't have a reason to lie." Roland fixed his eyes on the little glowing bugs hopping along the water. Myrtle watched them with him.

"It doesn't take away from the fact everyone's dead 'cause of her." Myrtle shook her head. Roland could feel her shivering. Whether it be from the thoughts, or the cold, he didn't know. Maybe a little bit of both. "All of our friends, the sewers... Don't you think about that?"

"I do. I have a lot." Roland nodded. "But she's not the one I hate. It's Aurus and the Guardians of Warfang. Ashlyn's the closest to blame, I know, but there's more to this than just her. I'm just trying to look at the bigger picture."

Myrtle breathed a shaky breath.

"I wanna believe you, Roly. I really do. But I'm... I'm just really struggling right now. All of these damn thoughts. All of this... This stuff's wearin' down on me."

He smiled warmly. "Same here. But... you just need to forget. Move on. That's all we really can do."

"Moving on and forgetting aren't the same things, Roland." Myrtle looked at him. Even in the darkness, he could see those leaf-green eyes, full of confusion. She was curious over what was going through his mind, he could tell. All he could do was admit that that _was_ true. "You can't just... _forget_ all of this happened. That's impossible. I won't ever forget."

"Then..." He shrugged. She was right. He knew he couldn't just forget about it all. He'd been lying to himself, over and over again. No matter how many times he told himself to move on, his thoughts returned to everything horrid. He wished it were that easy, but that trauma would stay with him forever.

But he could at least forgive. Better that than hate. Ashlyn wasn't bad and he knew it. If she felt like she could improve, Roland would do what he could to support her.

"You can't just hate her forever, Myrtle. She's going with us. And if you can't deal with her until we reach Warfang, then... Well, I guess that's where we all split up, except you and me. I'm doubtful you'll see her again."

"Does she even _want_ to go to Warfang?" Myrtle suddenly asked. Roland was about to nod, but then it struck him.

Did Ashlyn want to go with him? Or was she feeling forced to because of him?

The last thing she wanted to see was there, the Guardians that had turned her life to ruin. He'd thought she wanted to go to Warfang, but he'd neglected that fact.

Now he knew she was only going because she felt forced to.

"I... did tell her that she didn't have to go if she didn't want to," Roland said. "But I think she feels like she has to anyway. Maybe I should go and talk to her, see what she wants instead of what _I_ want."

"Maybe that'd be for the best..." Myrtle sighed. "We should go back. It's getting cold out here."

Myrtle walked off without waiting for him. Clearly, she didn't even want to think about it. She'd rather ignore Ashlyn than learn to accept her.

He couldn't blame her. He knew he was more trusting than her, more willing to accept faults. Hopefully with time she'd come to accept her.

Roland let out a deep breath before heading back to the campsite.


	19. An Ember of Hope

An Ember of Hope

Roland flinched at the touch to his stomach, his side rubbing against fur. Fluffy let out something akin to a groan. The dreadwing shifted and Roland copped a mouthful of hair.

His eyes shot open and he coughed on the rotten taste. Grass rustled and he looked up, finding the shadow of a blue dragoness slowly backing away from him, quivering and alert. She eyed the hulking beast sitting on top of him.

"W-what?" Roland released the yawn caught in his throat, then rubbed his eyes with a free paw. "What is it, Ash?"

"I-I, uh... S-sorry for waking you, but..." She looked behind herself, pointing skyward. He couldn't tell what she was looking at from beneath the soft, smelly body above him. "Y-you should take a look at this."

"Mmm... What could be so important as to need _my_ attention?" his voice came, groggy, with a drowsy smile on his maw. "Up, Fluffy."

The dreadwing stopped staring at the ice dragoness and lifted itself. Despite the rotten scent, he was sad to see the dreadwing walk elsewhere. Fluffy made a nice blanket. This cold, harsh against his scales, almost made him call the dreadwing back.

"Now, what are you looking at?" The red dragon squinted into the night sky. He could make out blurry shapes, faint colours and speckles of light. "I really don't like being woken–"

He stopped. His vision was impaired, but he could tell where her thoughts lay. A line cast across the sky, a streak of glowing blue. It was rushing towards their campsite, coming from the direction they'd come.

"What the...?" He cocked his head. He didn't have time to ask any questions before it rushed overhead like a shooting star, leaving a bright, almost smoky trail, visible even through the clouds, high and misty above.

Ashlyn was astonished by the blue, brighter than even her polished scales. She looked to Roland and back again. He was in total awe, bewildered, in stunned silence.

"It was... so far away before," Ashlyn murmured, turning to look towards the streak. It took a sharp turn, flying straight along the coast, before it disappeared from view. "And now it's just _gone_."

Roland was reminded of the other streak, grey and cloudy. They shared the same features, except for their colour. That definitely wasn't a shooting star.

"It's so pretty..." Roland watched the trail fade from the night sky. It glimmered before petering out like a soundless firework. "It reminds me of the other streak we saw..."

"Y-yeah, that's what I was thinking." Ashlyn stepped in its direction. Roland looked back at the smouldering embers, his slumbering companions, and Fluffy before following in a jog.

She stopped right at the edge of a steep slope, paws clutching onto rocks, eyes wandering across the skies. Roland halted behind her.

"I'm... so confused." Ashlyn shook her head. "I've had thoughts, but..."

Roland's eyes met hers, his desire for answers deep. "You have an idea?"

"I've... I-I've read about something like this." She turned around, face set in fear. "About glowing streaks in the sky. I thought it was just some crazy fairy tale. The grey streak was nothing to me, but this blue one..."

"What is it?" Roland demanded. He'd wrap his claws around whatever answer he could obtain. He was sick of going unanswered, being unable to do anything, to find a solution.

Ashlyn stared at him for a few moments before she buried her gaze in the grass.

"I... I'm not too sure, Roland. I can't remember all the details." She shrugged. "Something about throbbing eggs?"

"Throbbing... _eggs_?" He lost the look of curiosity and almost fell over. The heart. That pulsing blue _thing_. Was that the egg she spoke of?

The blue streak... Was it connected to the blue of the egg? The creature inside...

He'd looked within, only to see the deformed body of a dragon, front legs missing. But dragons didn't grow in eggs like that. Not disgusting, fleshy things.

The one answer that came to his mind was that it was a wyvern. It couldn't be anything else. Long lost, ancient and almost forgotten, except for the ruins their archaic civilisation had left behind tens of thousands of years ago.

Had they come back? Who was laying the eggs?

"Fluffy took me out back in Midrun for a short flight," he told her. "He took me to a cave, and inside I saw a blue thing that throbbed. And inside of it was what I think is a wyvern."

"Wait, what?" Ashlyn gasped, wings lifting in shock. "A _wyvern_? Th-they don't exist anymore; they died out thousands of years–"

"Do you have any other explanations?" he countered. Ashlyn stood there, mouth agape, before finally shaking her head.

"I... I don't know what to say." She paced around, a claw on her chin. "It was a story Mum read to me. All I can remember is saying it was really dumb, and her being surprised by how blunt I was for a six-year-old. She agreed. That's... all I can remember, though."

Ashlyn started shaking her head. She wracked her skull, clenching her teeth. "...Damn it! Why can't I remember? Think, Ashlyn, think!"

Roland let his stirring apprehension out in a sigh. Some answers... But this only brought more questions. He hated that more than anything in the world.

Fluffy was watching the sky, Roland noticed, a curious, maybe even knowing glint in his eye. Did he have answers? The dreadwing had been the one to bring him to the egg...

Unfortunately, Fluffy didn't have the capability to speak. Stupid animals and their limits... Why was the knowledge always mere inches from reach? He could almost rake his claws across it.

He turned back to Ashlyn. "Well, it sounds like something we need to look into. Maybe we can take a look at the library together in Warfang?"

"Uh, yeah, good idea," she said. "If there's any place that holds knowledge on the wyverns, then it's the library. I'm not sure how much information they'll have, though. I wish I'd looked into it more when I was with Mum."

"We'll think about it when we get there." He yawned, watching the stars, as if to discern more movement. He desired just another glimpse, but the colour had faded from existence. Even the reds and greens coiling across the sky were now lifeless without that magnificent blue streak. "In the meantime, I think it's my turn to watch, right?"

"Y-yeah, I was just about to wake you up for that." She grinned slightly. "Do you... want me to stay up with you?"

He started walking back towards the campsite, returning the grin, though his was more devious. "Are you trying to say I'm gonna fail you all and fall asleep?"

"N-no!" she exclaimed. "I-I just thought you might... like some company."

"Nah, you're right." He stopped near Fluffy, who peered down at him with curious yellow eyes. He scratched the neck beneath the fur, receiving a quiet yet hearty coo as a response. "I probably would just fall asleep. But... I'm pretty sure there's more to it than just keeping me company, right?"

"You really _are_ perceptive." She chuckled softly. The laugh was quickly lost to the night. "I just wanted to talk to you about... the things that happened."

As he expected. He knew Myrtle and Ashlyn's conversation hadn't gone well. Roland was surprised Myrtle hadn't been angered, but then he wondered if she was keeping her calm for him. "Wanna go somewhere else?"

"Yeah, sure." Ashlyn led the way. Roland went to follow, but felt a tug on his wing by the large creature behind him. He watched Fluffy with interest, but the dreadwing's concerned eyes made him slump a little.

"It's okay, Fluffy." He loosed his wing from the dreadwing's talons. "I won't be long."

But Fluffy shook his head and Roland pondered why. The monster turned its gaze to the skies. He had a fair idea what the dreadwing was scared of.

"I know, I'm a bit scared of it, too," he consoled Fluffy. He reached the dreadwing's head with his paw and scratched the forehead. "That explosion almost got me and you. But it's gone now. Don't worry about me, bud."

He looked back to find Ashlyn looking at them both, a small smile on her maw. She was waiting for him and he was about to leave, but he didn't expect her to approach the dreadwing. Somehow, she found the bravery to lift a paw to the beast's neck, in spite of the fears she had, in spite of even the _smell_.

She scratched that part of the neck, as if it was instinctual, and the dreadwing leaned in. Roland saw that smile growing.

"It's okay, Fluffy," she said. "I doubt it was anything harmful. Please let Roland and I have a talk. And watch over the others while we're at it."

The dreadwing looked down at the pair of them, then just to Roland, as if waiting for him to confirm the request. He nodded his head and the dreadwing left them both with something akin to a quivering sigh. Roland pitied the dreadwing, but he didn't mind the feeling of protection that Fluffy gave him. He could deal with the smell if it meant he had a loyal companion by his side every moment, wanting only to fulfil his commands. Of course, he'd return the favour in scratches and snuggles.

"Alright." Ashlyn spun once more, heading off into the darkness, warily eyeing the ground as she trod forward. Roland followed suit, a few steps behind her.

He recognised the pond before him from a few hours ago. Ashlyn watched the glow of the moons, reflected in the dark water. He shivered; somehow, it was colder there. His tired mind speculated whether Ashlyn was filling the air with a chill using her presence as an ice dragon itself.

She wet her lips and looked up at him, clenching her paws in the grass. "I'm... pretty sure you can tell how the conversation went."

"Not the best, I suspect." Roland's eyes left hers, falling to the rippling water, then a lily pad's budding flower. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have pressured you into it so early. Myrtle needs time. She doesn't understand yet."

"She _understands_ ," Ashlyn explained. Roland watched her again, this time with intrigue. "She just... doesn't like how I went about things. And she's right. I know I went about this all in the worst way possible, and... now we're here. That's on me."

"C'mon, Ash, I thought we went over this whole–"

"And I still can't comprehend why you think the way you do." Her eyes were hard and fixed. Roland could sense a hint of venom gathering in her voice, her dislike for confusion growing. "Every bone in my body tells me you should hate me for what I did, yet that isn't the case. There's something you're not telling me. There has to be a doubt in your mind _somewhere_."

"I've already told you what I think," he said. "I have been questioning myself all this time, but I really think you can do better. You barely had any control–"

She put a paw up. "There are so many things I could've done to prevent all of this. But I was too scared for myself to do anything. I was too selfish. Look at what's happened."

"I _know_ what's happened." He sat straighter, eyes glowing with golden determination. She needed to leave these thoughts behind. "I want you to make amends, but you can't do that if you keep focusing on all this negativity rather than what you can do to help."

"Roland, I _am_ trying to think!" Her paws clenched around the grass. "But there isn't _anything_ I can do to make this right! Thousands died because of me! I was just a fuse for a bomb... and the more I try, the more everything I destroyed crumbles! Myrtle doesn't want me near her. The only reason she hasn't... f-fucking attacked me is because of you. She _deserves_ to kill me, after everything I did to her and everything she held dear."

"Ashlyn, please–"

"And you do, too."

Roland exhaled, nipping his lower lip to the point of nearly making it bleed. He couldn't begin to describe how sick of this he was. Over and over, logic colliding, fighting a futile war. She'd seemed to understand so many times, yet these thoughts plagued her so.

Of course she could do better. Everyone could. If old queen Cynder could prove herself after murdering thousands of people, anybody could.

Yet Ashlyn just didn't understand. It frustrated him to no end.

"Ashlyn, I don't want you dead," Roland spoke, tone solemn. "That wouldn't be right. Revenge is... petty. I know what happened is horrible, but you need to move on from all that..."

"So, you're saying I should just _forget_ all this happened?" she asked. He sensed the poison in her tone, that growing anger. He wouldn't be lying if he was frightened by her when she was mad, but he wouldn't back down from this. She _needed_ to understand, or else her feelings would get worse and worse. "I can't just forget about it, Roland! We're sitting out here right now, in the middle of–"

"Moving on isn't _forgetting_." He looked at her, almost sternly, in those narrowed eyes. "It's _accepting_. I know you can't forget. I can't forget my own mistakes. But you can't just keep letting it drag you down like this."

"What would _you_ know!?" Her voice was higher, full of pain. Roland could hardly bear seeing her like this. He was taken aback by this anger; it was unlike the outbursts earlier, fury rapidly growing, an inward hatred for herself. Her self-loathing thoughts scared him. " _You_ didn't play a part in blowing up a fucking city! _You_ didn't kill THOUSANDS of people! _You_ didn't kill a _little girl_ because you couldn't f-fucking bear what your dad would do to you! That explosion should've just killed me! ...No, I should've gotten rid of myself a long time ago!"

She leaned forward, her wings flaring, fangs clenched. Roland leaned away, unable to meet her gaze, a look he thought would kill him if he dared a peek.

"Yet here I am!" She pointed to herself, nicking her scales with a sharp talon, and took a step towards him. Roland felt a hind leg move back on instinct. "A monster, walking away without _any consequences_! I should be tortured to death for what I did!"

"Ash, please just–"

"Stop 'Ash'ing me! You're not _listening_!" She was screaming now, taking yet another step, eyes beaded with tears. Roland wondered if the others could hear her. "Do you even hear yourself!? 'Oh, I forgive you, even though you killed _everyone_!'"

Roland tried and tried to stand his ground, but all he could do was let himself be pushed back. "Ashlyn, c'mon!"

"Why aren't you mad!? Everyone you loved is _dead_ because of me! Your best friend is dead! I willingly went along with my father! I'll never be good again!"

Roland felt a tree against his tail as he was pushed up against it. Ashlyn's tears flowed. She didn't even wait a second for him to respond.

" _Why aren't you mad_!?"

The words stopped before they could leave his throat. Fear coursed through his body, paralysing him to the spot. All he could feel was his heart drumming against his rib cage.

He couldn't give an answer. Her fury was failing her; her legs were shaking.

"Why..."

She fell to the ground, landing on her elbows, a quivering blue heap beneath his paws, shattered and crying. His fear was dispersing, but apprehension settled over. He opened his maw and listened to his own breath shake.

He stepped down from the large, gnarled root he was forced upon, watching Ashlyn, trying to summon the words.

"Ashlyn..." He got down to her level. She didn't answer, but he knew she could hear him. "Please... Look at me."

It took a moment, but eventually those eyes met his, bloodshot. He reached over with a paw, placing it upon her shoulder. For the first time ever, she didn't flinch in shock. He could tell, even with how shaky she was.

He breathed a silent sigh. His heart continued to beat in his ears.

"I'm... I'm an optimist, Ashlyn," he began. "I-I try my best to see the good in people. I know what happened, and I can only imagine how you feel about it all, but I can see good in you. I know that you didn't want this. Trust me when I say I think it was barely even a choice for you to begin with."

She didn't seem to know what to think, but she kept her silence.

"I... don't know if you can ever be considered _good_ again." He shrugged. "I... I honestly don't think anybody could consider you that way."

Ashlyn cocked her head, confusion once more taking over. "B-but... you..."

"No... I was an idiot for thinking like that," he said. "But... you can be better. All of us can, Ashlyn. You aren't just some outlier."

"A-after every... everything. I..."

"You know about Cynder, right?" he asked. Ashlyn nodded, but was perplexed as to why he would bring her into this. His heartbeat slowed and he could manage a small smile. "Well, you know she did something similar. She killed a lot of people. But with enough dedication and hard work, she was able to prove herself and sit next to Spyro, respected. Not everybody could trust her again, but that's only expected. People aren't just going to love you again at first glance, if at all."

"B-but Cynder... she was..."

"I know the stories say she didn't have a will, but that's not the point I'm trying to make."

Once again, she tilted her head, rubbing her paw against her eyes. "Then... what?"

"She did something terrible, or rather... something terrible happened to her, just like you. You were born under a horrible father, emotionally and psychologically manipulative. Cynder was taken and born under the Dark Master. If you think about it... those are actually pretty similar."

Ashlyn opened her mouth, but no words left it.

"Even after all that, she was able to be better." He took his paw away from her shoulder and hunkered down his stomach. The small smile splitting his maw grew a little. "She tried her very best to make things right, or as right as they could possibly be. Not everyone could trust her again, but she managed to grow from her actions, and if she can do it, I think you can, too."

She averted her gaze, clutching the grass.

"I believe in you, alright?" Roland never lost focus on her. She directed her eyes back to him, and he could see them wet once more. "Seeing you like this only strengthens my belief that you want to do better. That's all I should expect of you."

"I..." She sniffled, lifting herself off the ground. Roland followed suit. "Where... Where do I even start?"

"Just be nice and do what you can to help," he told her. "Be the best person you can be. It was a mistake getting you to talk to Myrtle, I think, so let's not take it overboard. Myrtle's not ready yet, and I don't know if she ever will be. Time does heal most wounds... Unless..."

"...Unless?" she repeated, puzzled. Roland smirked.

"Unless–" He shoved a paw into his satchel and drew out a red crystal "–you have spirit gems. Then it's instant."

Ashlyn didn't even know what to say, her mouth agape. Roland was worried she hadn't gotten the joke, but with time, she actually started laughing. He was overjoyed to hear that.

"Wow, okay, I wasn't expecting that," she said, a grin on her face. Soon, however, it was lost, replaced by yet more sorrow. Though, this time, he could sense hope within her expression. "But... you're right. All this time I haven't been listening to you. These thoughts are swallowing me whole. I need to have a bit more optimism."

"I'm glad I've convinced you." He patted her on the shoulder. "Also remember that a lot of the blame for this falls on Aurus, too. He was the one being controlling. He made you do things you didn't want to. If you'd actually wanted to kill these people, I'd think very differently about you."

Ashlyn nodded, then her eyes fell to the floor as she rubbed them free of tears.

"I'm sorry for getting mad at you and... crying and scaring you," she murmured. "It's wrong of me to just toss around a friendship like that, like it's nothing. I really am an idiot."

"It's all good," he replied. "My hope after this is that you stop worrying and start trying to think more positively."

"Okay... alright." She nodded. Determination settled in her eyes, and Roland had a hope they wouldn't need to have this conversation again. "I'll try my best. Thanks, Rol–"

"Hey!" a male tone called over the hills, Roland instantly recognising it as Harper. The cheetah rushed up the hill, towards the pond. He had his new pistol raised like he was ready to kill a thousand death hounds. "Are you two alright?! I heard shouting!"

From the way it was phrased, Roland thought Harper hadn't heard what they were speaking about. They could keep this a secret for now, maybe even after they'd reached Warfang. "Uh, yeah, we're okay! Don't worry!"

Ashlyn managed a sheepish grin, voice low. "I guess he heard me carrying on."

The cheetah stopped before them, eyes darting this way and that. "What in the name of the Ancestors are the pair of you doing out here? Were you fancying a midnight swim? And what was all that racket about? I thought I heard something about _torture_?"

"Um..." Ashlyn averted her gaze. "D-don't worry about it. I was just confused over something Roland told me. And we're out here doing, uh..."

"Just having a chat," he answered for her. "It's nothing now."

Harper stood waiting for the truth, with a claw below his mouth, but eventually shook his head. Clearly he knew he wasn't going to get a proper answer.

However, he had a different question on mind.

"You both left the rest of us there without anybody to watch over us?"

Roland immediately shook his head. "No, Fluffy was doing it. We weren't gonna be long anyway."

Harper opened his mouth, but let the words drift away, along with his suppressed irritation. Roland felt guilty, having been apologised to, and now making it seem like that was worth nothing.

"Alright." The cheetah motioned towards him with the firearm. "It's cold out here. Let us head back to the fire."

Harper turned around, adjusting his hat, before shoving off towards their campsite again. The two dragons followed swiftly, but Ashlyn paused before moving, waiting a little longer.

She turned to him as they paced up the hill. "Thanks a lot, Roland. It... it really means a lot."

"It's the least I can do," the red dragon said, tightening the thick scarf around his neck. "Don't mention it."

Roland wasn't sure if this night was going to go well or not, if Ashlyn was going to once again ignore his words and go back to her old thoughts, but hopefully now she'd realised her way of thinking wasn't helping. Maybe he'd said the wrong things a few times – he had regrets over sending Ashlyn to talk it out with Myrtle. Of course that wasn't going to go well. How had he been so idiotic?

But now, he hoped those thoughts would be gone. And looking at that reassured smile on her face, his only guess was that they were.

There it was, that shining ember of hope.

* * *

Roland was, once again, awoken early, but this time he didn't mind so much. Last night beneath his pet blanket, Fluffy, he'd slept soundly after waking Tris up to take care of the watch. It took him a few moments to notice it was Myrtle tapping him, and his thoughts led him to believe there being something wrong, or at the very least unexpected, as he soon heard.

Metal links and pieces, clinking and scraping together, distant on the wind. Hundreds of footsteps stamping through the wilds, across the winter plains. There was a distinct voice calling out above the noise, yelling to cease chatter and maintain order amongst ranks.

Roland walked with Myrtle to examine the intrusion, joining the others on the side of the hill, but he didn't even have to look to know what it was.

The bodies of the army were covered in black leather, green cloaks adorning their shoulders, moving in union. Thin, glinting metal rested by their sides, and upon the other hip lay what Roland thought was a firearm. Already Midrun had sent cheetahs; he was shocked they'd caught up so quickly. They were heading in the same direction they were supposed to be, towards the glowing Everlost Forest. It was nowhere near as large as the gathering he'd seen in Firemore, and there were no dragons or other creatures, but Midrun was clearly doing what they could. Mr. Varlend had been serious about stopping the purple threat.

If only he'd known the full story...

This all felt so pointless to him, knowing the purple dragon was already gone. He almost wanted to tell them, send them back home, but common sense told him not to approach.

What did he care anyway? They wanted to kill his best friend. Why even bother with them?

"I was hoping we could get moving early," Harper said from beside him. "But now there's an army in the way. And I would rather them do their job than get distracted by us. I should've been in that army back in Firemore, but alas, I am far too old to join a war. My life is already waning."

"How old are you, Harper?" Roland asked, watching the army with a keen eye. He wondered if they'd seen them all up here, staring down upon them. If anything, the leader, up the front and mounted on some big horned creature Roland hadn't seen before, didn't give two shits about them.

"In a few weeks, I will be fifty." Harper crossed his arms and leaned against the rough oak tree next to him. "We cheetahs don't live as long as you dragons. I only have ten more years in me before my fur starts falling out. I'd like to live as long as you, but... I suppose I wouldn't know what to do for that long. Your lengthy lifespan seems more like a curse than a blessing to me."

"Trust me, I dunno what I'd do for that long, either," he said. "I guess once I can settle somewhere, I'll dedicate myself to my writing. Maybe I'll meet somebody. I have no clue. If anything, Harper, you're looking pretty good for fifty years old."

"Thank you. I do my best to care for my fur, despite our circumstances. Most my age are ragged and... not pleasant to look at. I didn't want to become like them." Harper looked to the rest of the group, adjusted the black coat over his leather, and lifted the hat away from his eyes. "What do you all suppose we do for the time being? We aren't short on time. We could hunt for breakfast, perhaps even cook a proper meal. Do any of you have anything you want? Within reason, of course."

Tris, who had been whispering to Myrtle, raised her head at the request for ideas. "Well, there's plenty of piggle out there. We could collect some wild vegetables, and... I'm pretty sure we have coffee beans, right?"

"In my satchel," Myrtle responded, patting the leather container. "We just need some water, but the only source of clean water near us is the Faymaw, and that's all the way down there." She looked behind her and pointed away from the army. "I ain't walkin' that far."

"I'll do it," Ashlyn's voice came swiftly. Myrtle glanced at her strangely, but shrugged a moment later. "I, uh... just need something to hold it in."

Harper gave a low grunt of confirmation before pulling a jug from the rucksack sitting beside him. Roland wondered just how much was in there, and even if it was bottomless. He'd seen several bulky, unnatural items come from within its depths. It seemed packed to the brim, yet it managed to hold everything he could ever need while travelling, and probably more, like all of Tristana's metallic gizmos. He'd forgotten to ask her about them in Midrun, but then again, it wasn't as if he was spared much of an opportunity to go over them with her. Maybe if he hadn't gotten drunk.

Breakfast came and went slowly, a fulfilling dish of well-done piggle and wild carrots covered in a thick sauce Roland hadn't the name of, courtesy of Tris. He'd liked those cookies she'd made when he'd visited, so he hadn't doubted her ability. Thinking back to last night's meat, he was thankful he wasn't swallowing a mouthful of charcoal eating this one. Fluffy was constantly hovering over his shoulder, and finally, he caved enough to throw the dreadwing a piece of his meal. He was a little shocked when the dreadwing spat a glob of brown mush onto the ground, hacking and spluttering. Maybe dreadwings didn't like piggle or cooked food.

Harper had said something about them devouring elements as a means of sustenance... Perhaps cooking animals drained the magic within.

After their dinner-like breakfast, the army had disappeared miles and miles ahead, and they finally got moving again. The walk was a sluggish one; Roland hadn't really gotten over the pains in his muscles. Although he could keep up the pace if he needed to, he was a sprinter, not a long-distance runner. Harper's steps were quick and light, leading them across yellowing plains and back to the dirt path – the red dragon was struggling to keep up, but he knew he could manage. Better they move with haste and get to their destination quicker.

They stopped towards the middle of the day to take a breather, Roland chatting and joking with Myrtle. He had lurking worries that their friendship would be hindered with Ashlyn around and Drevon gone, but all was strangely okay. Other than casting the occasional glance at the ice dragoness, she seemed totally normal and messed about as if she were with a group of her best friends. Tris even joined in, and overall, it was nice to chat like they were still in Firemore again. Almost everything he cared for was gone, but he tried his best to maintain high morale. He could make a new life for himself, meet some new people, and start his writing again, all in Warfang.

It was mostly just Drevon that he felt miserable over now. But he masked that as best as he could behind his jokes and optimism. He was trying to accept it, thinking that maybe he should've been expecting this to happen after befriending the purple dragon.

He felt guilty letting an explosive vessel brimming with power into such horrid circumstances. The purple dragon hadn't belonged in the sewers. He should've noticed Seth's distrust at first and gotten the purple dragon somewhere else, a safe place where he could be happy.

Maybe Seth had been right in the end... Drevon had only amounted to a ticking time bomb; his fuse had finally been burnt away. Roland had always seen more in him than that – a real person, with real feelings, and a good friend – but he should've also seen the obvious. All he'd ever wanted in the end was happiness for the sewer thieves, yet that had come at the cost of an entire city and all of their lives. It wasn't too much to ask, right? Just a sliver of joy?

He tried to leave it for now. Everything had gone wrong, but all he could do was accept it, stomach it all. Crying over it wasn't going to do anything for him.

He could move on. He'd get to Warfang, start his life anew. That positive thought was one of the only things keeping him going.

"You right there, Roly?" Myrtle tapped him on the shoulder. He shook his head, mind snapping away from his thoughts. "You went quiet on us. Somethin' we said?"

"O-oh, no, I'm just daydreaming." He adjusted himself on the felled log overlooking the grasslands, faint traces of snow freckling soft yellow blades. He gave Myrtle a wide grin. "What were we talking about?"

"Wow," Tris exclaimed, a smile behind her paw. "You memory is non-existent."

"I was more focused on the dreadwing _breathing down my neck_." Roland turned and gave Fluffy a narrow glare. The other two whipped around and jumped in fright, Myrtle more than Tris. Roland chuckled.

Myrtle's wing shot into the air. "Tell your winged dog to go back up there!"

Fluffy growled, but his focus was on Roland's apologetic expression. The red dragon merely lifted his head skyward, about to issue the command, before Fluffy took off into the skies without one. Roland's jaw hung loose.

"You have some sort of connection to Fluffy, I swear." The yellow dragon observed the dreadwing, flying big circles in the sky above them. "I've seen loyal dogs before, but never a creature so loyal you don't even have to tell it to do things."

"I've barely even seen him before." He was eager to learn more about Fluffy. Someone had to have sent the dreadwing after him; he believed that now. Why else would this dreadwing have this connection to him? "I feel like someone else trained him. But who could train a monster like this?"

"I've never seen anything like it..." Tris lowered her eyes to Roland's level. "Anyway, I have something to ask Ashlyn. See you both in a bit."

Roland and Myrtle both said brief farewells. Roland eyed Myrtle, who watched Tris as she left.

"So..." A teasing glint sparkled in Roland's eyes. "What do you think of her?"

Myrtle gave him a look that screamed 'I want you to die.' He returned it with as much innocence as he could muster.

"I just wanna know! Please?"

"She's nice," she grunted. Her gaze wouldn't meet his. Roland reached for her shoulder with a paw, a sly grin on his face, but she slapped it away. "Don't touch me!"

"Geez, Myrtle," he scoffed. His voice turned to a mere whisper. "C'mon... it's _so_ obvious."

She gritted her teeth together, but she let out a sigh between them. "...Fine. She's hot. I'm not sure if she's... the right material, though. She just feels way too out of my league, ya know? Plus, it's way too early to say anythin'."

"I guess so." He looked over at Tris, stopping near Ashlyn. The blue dragoness seemed to chuckle at something she said, and Tris led her over somewhere else, out of sight. Harper watched after the two for a while, but ended up pulling his hat over his eyes, as though deeply troubled by something. Roland cocked his head.

He turned to face Myrtle. She was fixated on the spot they'd vanished. She gave a low grunt before pulling her eyes away from it.

"Hey, Myrtle, I..." Roland watched her fall to her hindquarters. She didn't show him her gaze, instead focusing on a pebble on the ground, moving about as if it was alive, glowing a dull greenish hue. It darted left and right, following Myrtle's claw. Roland wiped a paw through his grubby frills. "Uh... You know that blue pulsing thingo I was telling you about?"

"What about it?" Myrtle lifted a claw and sent the little stone she'd created skipping across the ground. Roland licked his lips.

"Well, I saw something I thought was related to it," he said. Myrtle didn't appear to be interested. Suddenly, her enthusiasm and happiness had disappeared. A facade? Usually, he saw through those, but he did know Myrtle for tough barriers. "There was this blue glow that shot through the sky. It was like a shooting star, but ten times more beautiful..."

"Wish I was there to see it." Myrtle shrugged. She drew little pictures in the dirt with her talon, circles with jagged edges. Roland tried to make something out of it, but nothing came of his thoughts.

He took a seat right next to her. Her nail almost connected with his foot, but she withdrew it and wove shapes elsewhere. "You doing okay? Sorry about being an arsehole. I can stop teasing you if you want."

"Nah... I don't really care if you do. Wouldn't be the same if they weren't teasing each other. Just thinkin'. Don't mind me, Roly."

It was obvious to him. After his conversation with Ashlyn last night, he felt that maybe an apology for sending her after the green dragoness was in order. He lowered his voice to make sure Harper wouldn't hear.

"It was all me, Myrtle." He raised his paw to place it against her shoulder again. This time, she didn't swat it away. "I told Ashlyn that you both should talk things out. But... it's too early. I know how you feel. She just wants to help. Sorry about that."

"...Meh." Myrtle shrugged. "I know she wants to help. That's fine by me. I'm tryin' my best to tolerate her. Once we get to Warfang, we part ways, and I never have to see her again. Don't agree with what she did, but I understand where she's comin' from. If you wanna bring her along, be my guest. I just don't want you to expect us to make up or whatever. I don't think that's possible. I can't forget Carolin and Drevon and... all the others."

"No, I don't anymore." He nodded. "We have different opinions and I shouldn't try to force mine onto you. As long as nobody's angry, it's fine."

"I do wanna believe you, Roland. I told you that last night." Myrtle brushed a paw over the dirt, wiping away her scribbles. "I think of you as a leader – my leader, anyway. Maybe I'm still thinking about all this shit, but I trust you, whatever you wanna do." Myrtle got up, wiping her claw on her chest. "I just hope you're makin' the right choice. I don't wanna be wrong about her again."

"Neither, but I can tell she's sincere." Roland looked to Harper, who had started walking in the direction Ashlyn and Tris had gone. The cheetah looked back for a second, motioning to Roland for him to follow. "I guess we're going now."

"Alright." Myrtle paced more quickly than he expected; he guessed she was eager to catch up to Tris and begin another conversation. "By the way, have you talked to her about if she wants to go to Warfang yet?"

"Oh, uh..." A sheepish grin pulled at his muzzle. "Not just yet. I will soon. I don't want her coming along because she feels forced to because of me."

"Do it soon." Myrtle nodded before running into a jog. "Now let's catch up. We ain't far off the forest now."

Myrtle wasn't looking forward to the forest, but he was. He'd heard stories of its beauty, of its mesmerising depth. The trees stood like a blanket; sunlight ceased to exist within, but he'd heard of mushrooms and animals that apparently glowed, lighting the path through. As long as travellers didn't stray from the path, the journey through would be an amazing one.

Of course, he'd also heard stories of where the name came from. Forever lost. Tales in books told of people lost within, consumed by monsters concealed beneath a facade of beauty. But those were only tall tales told to children to keep them from running off. The place didn't look all _that_ scary.

For now, he was excited. He couldn't wait to immerse himself within the Everlost Forest. And maybe the forest would spawn some ideas for his writing.


	20. Little Lights Leading the Way

Little Lights Leading the Way

Roland couldn't help but be in awe. There it was, the first blockade. The first obstacle on their way to reaching Warfang.

The Everlost Forest, mighty and tall, towered over them. It stretched beyond low clouds, a sea of murky green and cloudy white mist, lit by sparse blues overhead. Its body was as imposing as it was beautiful.

If he'd been younger, perhaps the gnarled roots and luminous depths would've seemed frightening, but in a weird way was instead inviting. A gravel path led into the forest's wide maw, cutting an arch through its gullet. He couldn't see through to the end; the darkness within obscured even the first twist in the path.

"This place doesn't bring back good memories," Myrtle whispered beside him. She snickered quietly after. "I do have a few stories I wanna tell, though. Atmosphere in there is _perfect_."

Roland looked over the greens and the azure lights, but couldn't quite place how it would be a good setting for horror stories. Maybe he'd have to wait until he was inside. "I'm... excited to hear them, Myrtle."

"I'm glad!" She punched him in the shoulder. "You're a pushover. You'll be squealin' like a piggle when you hear 'em."

"Heh, sure." He grimaced before walking up to Harper, who had his eyes set on the forest ahead. The cheetah folded his arms and turned around to face the dragons waiting behind him.

"Alright." Harper looked at each of them. "Before we head inside, you all must understand a few things. Myrtle already has an idea of what I'm about to say, considering her experience, but be certain you _stick to the path_. That is more important than anything inside the Everlost Forest. Do not, I repeat, do _not_ step off it for any reason. This place will try its damnedest to get you lost, even when you feel like you know exactly where you were before, and you won't be able to get through the thick canopy above to see where you are, mark my words."

Roland nodded. That much was understandable. He'd heard the stories before. That thick mist he saw floating above the forest would conceal all if he stepped in the wrong direction.

"We will also move in a tight group," the cheetah said. "We won't dawdle and we will make sure we stay in sight of each other, for more reasons than one. We don't want to get lost, but animals exist in these parts that will jump at the opportunity to take you if you are a straggler. This forest's beauty is no more than a disguise over the beasts within."

Roland looked back to the forest again and gulped. Now that was something to be scared of. The monsters reminded him of the imagination he poured into his stories, the challenges his heroine had overcome. The last thing he wanted was to be devoured by some big, ugly snake-looking thing.

"Thankfully," Harper continued, "the monsters are scared of light. The fungi will point us in the right direction. If for whatever reason you _do_ find yourself lost, head in the direction of light."

Well, at least there was a back-up plan if he _did_ get lost... He gulped down his saliva anyway.

"But that won't happen if you make sure to keep close to everyone. Don't daydream. Pay as much attention as you can and we _will_ make it through."

"I can't wait to tell you my stories," the green dragoness hissed. She was well aware of his growing apprehension now. But he decided to let it go. They were _just_ walking through a forest. That was all. Nothing to worry about. Like Harper said, follow the lights.

"Fuck off with your stories." He let a little grin cross his maw. Myrtle laughed.

"I will lead the way." Harper spun around, drawing an oil lamp from his rucksack. "I know there's light within, but it's better we're safe rather than sorry. Tris, if you could create a ball of lightning, I would be grateful."

"I've already done that." Tris paced ahead, the electric sphere held in her front paw. "Let's head inside."

Ashlyn joined Roland by his side, teeth clenched. Harper directed them all forward with the lamp.

"Alright." Harper took the first step forward, leading the way. "Let us head inside. We have a long journey heading through here. The quicker we are, the better."

* * *

"And then... _bam_! The wyrm snapped its jaws around Percy. Blood went fuckin' everywhere."

Roland's jaw dropped in mock terror. "Oh, Ancestors, how _terrible_!"

Even the light seemed to be snatched away by the dark and its greedy claws. Glowing fungi led the way forward, but beyond them was total blackness, as if sunlight hadn't existed in the first place. The cold in the air seemed enhanced by the dark, chilling him to the bone.

It was the perfect atmosphere for a scary story... and all Myrtle could tell was _this_? He couldn't help but feel a little disappointed, despite the smirk on his maw.

"Aww, c'mon, Roly," she said, stepping over a root jutting out of the ground. "I think that's my best one yet. I've been takin' some cues from your writing!"

"Blood isn't scary. It's _edgy_." He chuckled at her expense.

"I'll take my wing off you if you keep bein' mean." She pouted. Roland instantly shook his head.

"N-no, please, it's fucking cold." He ran a paw along his scarf again and shifted closer to the green dragoness. She'd offered to huddle up beside him for extra warmth, because she felt the same way. Something about earth magic being affected by the cold temperatures, or that's what she'd murmured when deciding to join him by his side. Her presence at his side wasn't noticed much by him. They were friends and this was fine.

"Then ya gotta say it's good!" Her words were more pleading than threatening, he found. He looked beside him to Tris, who was quietly laughing over Myrtle's behaviour.

Roland sighed. "Your story is amazing, Myrtle. I really liked the part where... where, uh..."

"I liked it, Myrtle." The yellow dragon grinned. "You tried your best. That's good enough for me."

"Yeah, you're the only reasonable person here!" Myrtle exclaimed. Roland noticed Harper looking back at them; the cheetah's head was cocked and he seemed about to open his mouth, but he was distracted by glow bugs fluttering around the embers of his oil lamp. He waved his paw about to shoo them away.

"Even if it wasn't... _scary_." Tris closed her mouth, bottom lip curled over her teeth. Myrtle exhaled.

"Fine. _Maybe_ I need to work on it," she said. Silence ensued after that, conversation drowned by the life of the forest.

Darkness impaired his vision, but his ears picked up chittering and scattering. Winter had come; leaves had fallen, crunching under his paws every few steps, but the Everlost Forest remained as full of life as ever. A little three-legged bird had whizzed overhead earlier, and he swore he'd seen two pairs of milky eyes staring at him through the mist and dark. Insects chirped, little critters hopping about the gravel in front of him, some even on his scales. He didn't mind their presence.

He looked up; no light at all, as if the void had devoured him, not even a ray of sunshine. One moment it'd been daytime and the next the sun had vanished. The only things guiding him and his companions forward were the glowing mushrooms littered across the forest floor and the plate-like bark of the trees, and the gravel path, reassuring beneath the pads of his feet.

Both Harper and Ashlyn ahead of them stopped for a moment, surveying their surroundings. The cheetah leaned forward as if he'd seen something skittering about the undergrowth. Roland and the two dragons beside him halted, but as soon as they had, Harper continued on his way, shaking his head. Ashlyn looked back at them and shrugged, and then moved on, quietly chatting with Harper about plans for later that day.

They had a quick stop at a river running through the forest later on. Roland wet his face and guzzled down a few gulps before they moved on, then watched a group of frogs as he waited for the others. They moved on, Tris with a claw beneath her muzzle.

It took her few minutes to voice her thoughts, staring into the dark fungal depths beside them.

"Have you guys heard of gem bunnies?"

"Yeah," Roland said. "They're rare and highly sought after. I saw a pelt on display back in Firemore worth a _ton_ of copper and wanted to steal it, but I wasn't able to."

"Well, this is where they live!" Tris explained excitedly. "I'd love to hunt for one because they're so rare – apparently their meat is to die for – but I don't think we'll see one. They stay away from the path and hide amongst all the monsters. People that go after them usually never return."

"That's a spookier story than Myrtle's." Roland didn't dare sneak a look at her, but it didn't matter in the end. She planted her elbow into his chest and he groaned lowly. Her features were dressed in innocence.

Tris lifted a brow. "Are you two always like this? Constantly making fun of each other?"

"Of course!" Myrtle exclaimed. "He treats me like garbage. He becomes my punchin' bag. It's a love-hate relationship."

"More hate –" He tried to suck in a deep mouthful of air "– than love."

Tris appeared to be concerned, but eventually ended up laughing. "I'm glad you two get along so well. Speaking of getting along, it sounds like Fluffy wants to right now."

Roland looked behind him to find the dreadwing rushing towards him and his group. He almost broke into a sprint to get away before his huge, monstrous companion could flop on top of him, but there were far worse monsters to worry about inside the depths of this forest than Fluffy.

The dreadwing's eyes darted about warily, landing on something in the darkness that Roland had no chance of making out. The red dragon sniffed the air for anything unwelcome, but he only picked up the earthy scent of trees, wet from the snow high above. Nothing seemed amiss.

Fluffy let out a screech, quieter than usual. Roland thought he heard a distant thump, but he felt he was just imagining it. Harper's eyes shot towards the dreadwing.

"What is it?" Roland asked, stopping. The dreadwing whimpered and forcefully stamped his back legs, kicking up pebbles, but that, of course, didn't mean much to him. "Something in the dark, obviously. But what?"

Fluffy turned back towards the patch of darkness, but shook his head soon after. Harper started walking again with an eye on the furred monster.

"I wish you could talk to me, bud." Roland sighed, moving on. Tris opened her mouth to speak once again, but she was stopped by another strange, distant thump.

The five of them stood in place yet again to listen. Roland cupped a paw around his earhole, his breath shallow, yet heard nothing.

"Was that it, Fluffy?"

The dreadwing didn't nod or shake its head. It only stared forward, shivering. Roland suspected it was something he didn't want to be seeing.

"It's far off." Harper held a paw to the pistol by his side. "But it shouldn't approach us. We're covered in light. I would suggest staying alert and keeping quiet, however."

They all nodded in unison and went on their way. Roland actively tried to avoid the leaves and make less noise against the loose path, but without a clear view on his side, his efforts were for the most part in vain.

That same slow thud came again, approaching, yet meandering and uninterested in those bathed in light. Roland thought he heard it breathing, deep and heavy. It was only Fluffy, though. Or so he thought.

An hour came and went. Those heavy feet had disappeared and conversation had returned, yet it remained subdued. Roland took to scanning the flowing river beside him, tinged green with moss and loose grass. A breeze shifted through the trees, high leaves whispering secrets to each other. Each leaf an eye watching, waiting for one to straggle behind. Caught falling behind the group, staring into the black above, he jogged to catch up with his friends.

Quiet loomed. He felt almost as if he'd entered some place sacred, like he wasn't supposed to be speaking. He would be punished by the beasts for doing so, for losing his way. He'd pay the ultimate price for distraction, by stepping out of the light the monsters cowered behind.

It took a while before his nerves calmed. The path spurred him forward. Conversation resumed as it once had as they stepped into a wider part of the forest. The trees had thinned into a hollow carved in Everlost's intestines. The river ran a course through the centre, and then suddenly veered left, followed by a bank brimming with little fungi. Further ahead, Roland could see the lights growing brighter, the mushrooms bigger and taller than before. As they walked through the hollow and reached the larger domes, Roland felt the need to touch one's cap. It wiggled and bounced, and he almost laughed before it started dimming.

"I forgot," Harper said. "Don't touch the mushrooms. They react to it and stop shining."

He nodded guiltily and left the others as they were. Myrtle turned around to look at him. She'd left his side a while ago, the chill more tolerable now.

"I've heard some say they're alive." Myrtle winked and Roland stifled a groan. "Spirits of the _dead_."

"Hey, speaking of spirits," Tris began, "did you know there's theories going around that spirit gems are actually the souls of dead people infused into gemstones?"

"I mean, they _are_ called _spirit_ gems." The green dragoness chuckled. "But I'm doubtful. Would make for a nice scary story, though."

"If only you could tell it well." Despite Roland's low voice, Myrtle glared anyway. Her menacing grin was difficult to see in the dark.

"I will deck you, lanky."

"It's just a thought," the yellow dragoness continued. "What if we were consuming other dragons to power ourselves?"

The thought was unnerving to Roland and would make him go off using them forever. He wouldn't consume some lost soul just to empower himself. What about all those people that took spirit gems for the sole purpose of getting high? Absorbing the dead just to have a bit of fun?

"Sorry... Maybe not the right topic?" Tris grinned sheepishly, but nobody responded after that.

He shivered. He didn't want to think about it. Myrtle was at least right in the idea that it would make a good story, one to tell around a campfire late at night.

He focused on the mushrooms littered across the ground and the large ones that stood like trees. He noticed little animals crawling on top of some of the larger caps and wondered why they didn't disturb the peace of the fungi. Perhaps Myrtle was right again, that the mushrooms were alive.

He wouldn't be surprised. The whole forest was teeming with life created by the Ancestors. Whether he could see it or not, he knew that creatures were watching them make their way through the depths of the Everlost Forest, chattering amongst each other, wondering why their hidden place had been disturbed by unfamiliarity.

Fluffy followed them at a close distance, but didn't mind heading towards the edge of the forest to snatch little creatures out of the bushes and mushrooms. His fear had since vanished; Roland felt the dreadwing belonged with all the creatures, the monsters hiding in the dark. He'd probably even be at the top of the food chain, able to stop creatures in their tracks with paralysing shock and fright, as long as he wasn't afraid of them like he had been before.

The path twisted onward, leading them over hills and into a large valley he didn't expect. The darkness was as oppressive as always, but he could see much of the landscape, smooth walls of rock lifting the land around it, brightened by the fungi and, weirdly enough, small glowing lamps hanging off high branches. At first he thought they were mole-made, iron strung via rope, but when he asked to inspect them and took off into the skies he found them natural. Vines held little glowing balls of plant matter, like stars spread along the canvas the darkness ushered.

"They're lifechains," Ashlyn said when he reached the ground again, waiting behind for him. "Aren't they pretty? They say that each time someone dies in this forest, a new lifechain grows. I wish I had some paper so I could draw them."

"I'll get you some when we get to Warfang," he promised. "I'd really like to see what you can do."

"I won't have a reference by then." She shrugged. "If only I could save this valley to memory..."

Rock pillars lined the valley, standing like guardians. Weirdly, he got the feeling moles had constructed something here because the pillars were arranged in a perfect circle. But it was far too ancient for that, wasn't it? Nobody would build anything in these woods.

He stepped forward, ahead of Harper, and stopped when his feet touched solid stone. He examined the surface, crumbled and disc-like. His claw trailed along indents chiselled into the stone, but they were too worn and the area was too dark to make them out. Harper stopped behind him.

"I've been here before, upon this very disc." Harper leaned down and touched its surface. "I have no clue what it is. Ancient wyvern work, I believe, but what it was used for is a mystery to all."

"Sacrifices!" Tris called out and then received a particularly stern look from Harper. She studied the stone at her feet for different reasons than Roland. "Sorry..."

"You know better than to doubt their intelligence, Tristana." Harper got up and brushed his paws off on his jacket. "I don't see anything here that immediately suggests sacrifices. This is all-around good stonework."

"Maybe she's right," Roland said, raising his shoulders. "I don't really see anything that doesn't suggest it, either."

"Well–" Harper began, but Roland chuckled and cut him off.

"I mean, I also don't really see anything at all."

Harper stood stiff for a moment before he exhaled and moved on without another peep. A smidgen of guilt swirled in Roland's stomach, but it was quick to pass when Tris snickered at the counterargument.

They were deep in the valley and the trees had once again grown thick. Roland watched little animals jump between the low branches he could see to distract himself from the cold and gloom.

He had a sudden thought, that Harper seemed to know something about the wyverns, regarding his comment on their intelligence. His curiosity knowing no bounds, he quickened his pace to catch up to him, leaving the others behind.

He voiced his question to Harper, who lifted his brow in surprise.

"You're curious about them? Why?"

"Oh, uh..." It took Roland a while to explain the blue egg he'd seen and the streaks soaring through the sky, as well as Ashlyn's familiarity with the subject. Harper nodded and grunted a few times, but otherwise didn't say much.

Harper shrugged as he finished. "I have heard the story. It's an old mythical tale about five wyverns, each representing an element. Fire, ice, electricity, earth, and wind respectively. It seems fictitious, however. I think you may have just seen some strange things."

"Maybe." But he couldn't get them off his mind. Something seemed far too coincidental about them. "What makes it seem like a myth?"

"It was written in the same vein as other fairy tales," Harper explained, "all of which have been proven false. We all know gnorcs and fairies don't exist. Furthermore, nothing can hold the amount of magic those eaters do."

"Eaters?" Roland cocked his head.

"That's what they named those five wyerns. Apparently, they consumed the elements, ridding the world of magic. It's said that, without the elements, a plague will be ushered in that wipes out all life, and then slowly turns the world to dust. Magic holds that back... somehow. It doesn't make any sense. It's not like it's happened before, considering we're all still here. That's why we think it's fake."

Roland nodded. That _did_ sound like a whole bunch of nonsense to him. If anything, it was a scarier story than whatever Myrtle had in store. He almost snickered at his thoughts, but he was kind of afraid of the earth dragoness reading his mind.

But whatever those things were, he would like to learn about them. He'd have to tell Ashlyn of Harper's explanation and see what she thought.

For now, though, he let it go. He had better things to do, the darkness to focus on, gorging on the light. Monsters lurked everywhere and the last thing he wanted was to be devoured before he could gain the information he wanted.

* * *

"It doesn't feel as dark here," Ashlyn remarked. She was right. The tops of the trees were visible now, jagged patterns of leaves and timber. Sunlight didn't break through the canopy and even the mushrooms were sparse. But, as they journeyed over the hill, everybody realised why the dark wasn't so oppressive.

Hundreds of thousands of blue glow bugs, little lights twinkling in the dark, leading the way. Roland struggled to find the words to express his amazement. A bug sauntered past his nostrils as they entered, but before he could swat it away, he realised they didn't want much to do with him. They flew around his body, though never touched it. He took a look at his companions, glimmering lights like gemstones across their scales.

He peered at Fluffy and found that the dreadwing was eating them. Roland quivered slightly in disgust.

Harper stopped where he was and dropped to one knee, sliding the rucksack off his back. He gathered many of the sticks and twigs on the ground, cleared away the glass, and struck a match, lighting a fire within seconds. Every bug flittered away from them and joined in a glowing ball around the fire, dancing about the embers.

"We'll stop here for the time being." The cheetah sat by the fire, sighing in relief.

Roland flopped onto his grey stomach with a groan. He fished in his satchel for his pocket watch and couldn't believe how long they'd spent walking. Ten full hours had passed.

Night was upon them now. The chirping of the insects he'd heard earlier had grown more pronounced. No more could he hear wildlife whizzing overhead or see monsters watching from the shadows. The forest, for the most part, had gone to sleep, and he was eager to join them, with or without dinner.

"Roland, I would like you to come with me in a few minutes," Harper said. Roland looked at him as if he was insane.

"W-what? Why?"

"I'd like for you to go hunting and foraging with me." Harper leaned against his rucksack. "I know, I know, you've been out hunting more than any of us, but this is important."

Roland let out a groan. He wanted so desperately to have a rest, but he supposed he could spare another hour. He still needed to learn, and Harper would probably make the best teacher.

"Fine..." He sighed. "Just let me sit down for a little while first..."

With that done, and a wave from the others, Roland and Harper left with Fluffy following closely behind. Harper complained about the dreadwing's presence, but Roland managed to convince the cheetah it would be fine. They paced further into the wilderness. Roland lost count of how many turns they took.

Roland didn't see much in the way of food. He was happy to know that the creatures of the night were asleep, not stalking him, but that also meant all of the prey was gone. Harper seemed to know what he was doing, though. He stepped into a patch of glowing mushrooms on the side of the path and pulled something white and dirty-looking from it: a different mushroom, this one lacking the glimmer of the others.

The cheetah turned to him, holding the mushroom up. "Look for these and pull them out. They're edible."

"Uh, alright..." He ventured along the path, searching for patches of mushrooms. Thankfully, they were common. Fluffy looked at him as if he was crazy. Roland suspected it came from the fact that the dreadwing couldn't eat them. By the time he was done five minutes later, he was holding a leg to his chest, clutching the mushrooms against it.

Harper lowered a small bag for him to put them inside, and then they moved onto the next thing. Roland cleared his throat as they went, the cheetah eyeing him.

"So... why me?" Roland questioned. "What's so important about bringing me with you?"

"I wanted to have a little chat with you," the cheetah said, turning back around, his pistol drawn. His eyes watched their surroundings for animals they could they take as their own. "How do I explain this...? Has Tristana been acting strangely to you?"

He frowned. Why was he bringing Tris into this hunting trip? "Um... define _strangely_ , Harper. And why are you asking me?"

"Well... she seems to be talking to you a lot, so I've been wondering if you have an idea." Harper took a long look into the darkness, his eyes narrowed, but moved on with a shake of his head. "Whenever I say something to her, her happiness wanes. It never used to be like that. Do you think I'm doing something wrong? Am I saying something nasty?"

So, the cheetah realised, but what in the name of the Ancestors was Roland supposed to say to that? Tell Harper that he was being unfair to Tris with what he was saying? He wasn't sure if the cat would take that well.

Perhaps that was the only real option, though. He had a chance to make somebody happier now, so taking the opportunity could only be a good thing, right?

"We're... We're all stressed out from the stuff that's happening," Roland said. "You included. I've felt like maybe you've been a little unfair on her. She'll say something or do something a little silly, and then you'll criticise her for it."

"Hmmm..." The cheetah stopped, holstering his gun. "I'm just trying to be serious about all of this. Firemore is gone and the purple dragon is at large. Things haven't looked this bad since the war."

Hearing about the purple dragon made Roland wince, but he couldn't possibly tell Harper. What would the cheetah do if he knew he was friends with him? In Harper's eyes, the purple dragon was an enemy. "I mean, you could loosen up a little. I know things are bad, but the only way I'm gonna keep myself sane through all of this is by having a little fun. That's not a bad thing. It's worse if you dwell on all of this."

"I'm... not trying to make her upset," Harper told him. He let out a breath. "But I know I am. I need to apologise. You're right."

"Like, I know everything wants to kill us in this forest," Roland uttered, "but if we stay in the light, we can have a bit of fun. It'd get boring if we didn't joke around. If Myrtle and I can do it, why can't Tris?"

"You do have a point." Harper shrugged. "I'll talk to her tonight. Let's move on."

And so they did. Harper grunted a few orders to Roland, though that was all. It didn't take them long for Harper to find something, some stray piggle in the forest. This wasn't their natural habitat; clearly, they'd been chased into the forest by something and hadn't been hunted by the monsters lurking in the murk yet. It didn't matter much to Roland, though. He was happy to have meat.

He licked the blood from his maw. This time it'd been a bit easier to kill an animal, though he was worried he'd become desensitised to violence if he kept this up. Happily, though, he threw his first kill to Fluffy, who chomped it down in two bites. No need for chewing if the meat and bones were ground apart in the throat. Roland shivered at the thought, knowing where the dreadwing's real name, Bone Grinder, came from.

"Tristana was always very bright," Harper insisted as they walked back, two piggle hoisted over his shoulders where the rucksack usually rested. "And people would praise her for that. She was one of the most gifted students in the entire academy, absolutely dedicated to her work."

"I see..." Roland replied.

"Other people used to visit our house a lot. I remember I wanted the kids on their best behaviour all the time. Pride was usually pretty quiet, but Tristana spoke up a lot and made silly passing comments." Harper looked down at the red dragon. "I think you'd be able to understand. We were in a formal setting. But then that started carrying over to the times we spent lounging about the house, and I am ashamed to say I've said some things I'm not particularly proud of. It was supposed to be fun. I'd even give them something to drink to lighten the mood a little... It's my fault, really. I know that I do it, but it's become habit."

"Why did people come around so often?" Roland asked. "I wouldn't want to be around that many people that much."

Harper gave a quick nod. "Neither did I, really, but it was necessary for what I wanted to achieve. These were important people. You know those writing colleagues I told you about?"

All the way back in Firemore, when he'd first met Harper. At the time he'd been a little suspicious of the cheetah, but his worrying had been wasted on nothing. "Yeah?"

"Well, they were higher-ups, more prominent figures than I. We managed to get along very well, and they offered me a great deal. Higher paying jobs than being a guard, better housing in the city, and later on a position in the government. Why they desired me is a mystery, but I suspect it had to do with Tristana's position in the academy. She was popular amongst them and saw great promise. My time went into making her look as good as possible, despite how excitable she was."

Harper paused a moment, a claw to his lip, before continuing. "They actually wanted her to pursue Guardianship. I asked her about it and she said that's what she was trying to do already, so I helped set her on the right track. I did all I could to secure better conditions for us both, and she put all of her time and energy into studying and training. But... I believe that's done something to our relationship. I regret what I've said to her in that time, what stress has made me do."

Roland felt a pang of sadness for the cheetah. At least Harper realised he'd been doing something wrong and wanted to fix it. He wasn't outright a bad guy. There were more layers to it than that...

"We need to talk to each other. We've been drifting for a long time."

Roland smiled at the cheetah. "Well, that's the first step. Just talk to her about things and I'm sure all will be fine. It's not like she hates you."

"I'll see how she feels. I just hope she thinks I love her because I get the feeling she doesn't."

Roland gritted his teeth. He knew that wasn't the case, but the divide between them was painfully evident. These little conflicts added up, made him want nothing more than to solve them. Hopefully now, however, they could make up and get along better.

"We shouldn't dawdle," Harper spoke a minute later. "The others are waiting for us to return. Tristana will be starving."

The others were excited to see them return with what they'd gathered. That night was spent sitting around the campfire, chowing down on a combination of smoky meat and mushrooms, and quietly chatting amongst one another. One by one, they all went to sleep, Myrtle left to stay up and keep watch for them.

* * *

 _Thump. Thump. Thump._

Roland's eyes shot open. The world was upside down and he wondered why, only to find he was asleep on his back, his belly rubbing against the dreadwing's fur. Fluffy shivered against him, murmuring to himself.

That familiar stamping... Roland rubbed his eyes and stared into the darkness; they were greeted by nothing at all. But that sound in his ears, like an awkward heartbeat, pulsed in the distance, looping over and over. He tapped the dreadwing's underbelly and issued a quiet command to him to get up.

Roland paced in the direction it'd been coming from, stopping beside a tree that stood close to the black. He gazed with squinted eyes, trying to locate its creator, but there was nothing he could see without light.

"Roland?" Tris hissed from a few metres away, up to watch their surroundings. "You hear that?"

"It woke me up," he whispered back. It was constant and repetitive, but the sound was familiar from earlier. It wasn't slow and meandering anymore. These were quick steps, growing closer and closer. Then, as whatever lumbering beast made the sounds reached a point it felt was near enough, it backed away again before it could ever be seen.

"There's something in there." Tris walked over to him, eyeing Fluffy. "It's like it wants to attack us but it's too scared of the light to make its move. Do you think it's coming from the same creature we heard before?"

Roland rubbed a paw down the dreadwing's neck, trying his best to calm him before he screamed out again and woke everyone up. Something big was out there and Fluffy could probably see it, but it wasn't doing anything to them right now. He could admit being stalked by it was creeping him out, though.

"I'd say it is." He looked further into the woods, trying to discern movement. The Everlost Forest hid its spawn well, however. "What kind of creature makes sounds like that?"

"It could be a troll," Tris said. "But... they're slower than that. And they're also not scared of the light."

The sound grew closer than before. Closer, yet closer, to the point he thought he could hear dry dirt showering over stone. It stamped to the left before it was behind him. Roland spun around.

There was nothing. But the monster kept moving, pounding the ground with heavy feet. Fluffy jumped back, letting his shock out in a whine.

"Should... Should I wake up the others?" Tris asked. "Sh-should we leave?"

"M-maybe." Roland followed the thump with his eyes. "It's... like it's trying to scare us. If it wanted us dead, it would've already done something."

"Darn it..." She shook her head. "We should've just gotten a boat in Midrun. I know it's expensive, but..."

Fluffy whipped around, panting and panicking. Roland tried to calm the beast, but nothing he did stopped him from shaking. The dreadwing let out little whimpers.

"It's okay, Fluffy. Shh." His consolation earned no response from the dreadwing. The usually jagged, furious eyes of the dreadwing had widened, revealing their terror.

It was coming from everywhere at once. Roland looked this way and that, even up, but couldn't make out where it was coming from now. Fluffy was hyperventilating.

It wasn't safe here. They needed to go. The monster shifting in the dark was coming for them.

"Roland, we need to–"

Fluffy finally screamed out. Roland's ears rung, throbbing in pain. The trees shook with life; birds bolted from their nests in panic, and the air itself seemed to vibrate around the dreadwing.

Roland's companions jumped to their feet. Harper drew his rifle, a blast of earthen power left Myrtle's mouth on instinct, and Ashlyn was too frightened to do anything but stare at Roland in immense confusion.

The thumping dispersed. Roland watched the dreadwing warily, his teeth clenched.

Harper looked at the dreadwing in absolute shock. His paws shook like flickering shadows. "What was that for!?"

"The thumping..." Roland trailed off. Harper lowered his rifle, his face pulled into an expression of worry.

"Is it gone?" Ashlyn asked. "Sh-should we go somewhere else?"

"I think it is." Tris gave Harper a questioning look. "What do we do?"

"If it left, we should be fine." Harper's eyes darted about before he sat down again. The cheetah left the rifle by his side. "It won't approach us. There's plenty of light."

Roland stepped on one of the glowing mushrooms, watching as it went out via touch. Then a grim thought coursed through his mind, one that sent shivers crawling through his spine. "What if the monster puts out the lights?"

Harper shook his head. "No, the mushrooms only react to what they aren't used to. I'm sure that thing is familiar to the forest."

He said it like the forest had a mind of its own. What if the forest was sending monsters their way to get rid of them, destroy the unfamiliarity. Were they like a disease to this forest, cutting down trees and decimating plant life for their own gain, that needed to be eradicated?

That thought shook him to the core. He felt alone, despite his companions. The leaves were watching like millions of angered spirits.

"We'll go back to sleep," Harper said. "We _will_ be fine. Trust me."

It didn't take long for the others to doze off again, but Roland was kept up, in part due to the fact he was on watch now. But even after he woke up Ashlyn to watch the perimeter, he couldn't get the thoughts off his mind.

Who, or what, was watching them? Why was it stalking them?


	21. The Eldertree

The Eldertree

"No, you really have to _listen_ to it, Myrtle. Try harder. You can do it!"

Roland worked his eyes open the next day – or at least he thought it was a new day. Shockingly, Fluffy hadn't offered to be his blanket the night before. He instead found the dreadwing hovering over a patch of mushrooms, face buried in the dirt. Probably searching for bugs to gobble up if he had to guess. At least he'd calmed since the thumping the night before.

The red dragon hadn't slept well, though. Not only was he cold, his mind was occupied by the monster stalking in the shadows, running back and forth, trying to frighten them all. A trick it played on them all. Had it wanted them to move closer towards it so it could snatch them from the light and steal them away?

He didn't want to think about it. Something was following them and he didn't like it.

"If you've summoned rock before you can surely do _this_. I believe in you!"

Roland turned his head to watch Tris, the one speaking. She stood over Myrtle, gaze fixed on the green dragoness' glowing paw. Myrtle growled lowly, toes clenched around the grass. Roland frowned and decided to see what was going on.

"I... I can't!" Myrtle exclaimed as he approached. The magic halted its flow, green embers floating away and fading in the dark above. She raised her head and smiled at Roland. Sweat beaded her brow. "Oh... H-hey, Roly."

"What are we up to?" Roland asked. Tris seemed disappointed in Myrtle, but excitedly chattered about their endeavours anyway, to the point where Roland barely understood her through her soft accent.

"Myrtle's trying to summon a rock pillar! It's a pretty basic technique, but she told me she wanted to learn it and I've always wanted to teach somebody what I know, so we're trying now!"

"Aren't you an electric dragon?" Roland remarked.

She lifted a brow. "My knowledge doesn't _just_ extend to electricity. I've read up on other techniques too, and it's not like I haven't watched others grow and learn in the academy."

"... _Basic_ ," Myrtle muttered. Roland knew she was eager to impress the yellow dragoness. As much as he liked to make fun of her for practically everything, he was willing to help her with that in any way he could, even if it just meant being emotional support.

"C'mon, Myrtle. You can do this." He grinned. Myrtle smacked him in the shoulder. "Hey, I'm being serious!"

"I don't believe ya." She chuckled and went back to channelling mana into her paw. Green rushed down her foreleg and struck the earth, grass wavering around it. She shut her eyes and pushed a harsh breath through her nostrils.

Tris put a paw to Myrtle's side. Myrtle shivered at the touch. "You already know how to summon earth with your mouth. Feel that energy flowing from your gut, through your veins, and into your leg."

"Okay... okay..." Myrtle whispered to herself, nodding once. "I can do this."

Roland sat down and watched her paw. Green particles spiralled around her leg. Something was happening; he could feel earthen energy in the air, in the ground he stood on. The earth was churning beneath him.

"Do you feel it?" Tris asked. Myrtle smiled.

"I do."

"Then slam your fist into the dirt. That's all there is to it."

Myrtle reared back, lifting her paw slowly, as if weights were attached to it. She was struggling to hold onto the magic; her neutral expression was faltering. But before anything could ruin the flow of mana, she planted a fist into the ground, releasing the stored magic into the dirt. And in no less than an instant, a stone pillar shot out of the ground, right below Roland's stomach. He clutched his abdomen, falling onto his side, starved of breath.

Myrtle opened her eyes, a paw to her muzzle. "H-holy shit! Sorry, Roland! I didn't mean that!"

"I... d-don't believe ya," he mocked, releasing a pained groan with it. "W-why does it... always have to be me?"

"I-I didn't know where to summon it!" she exclaimed. Her voice was full of worry, but he could also quite easily hear the laugh in her tone. "I... Wait, I did it?"

"You did!" Tris pumped a fist. She looked at Roland and the excitement dispersed. "I hope you're okay."

"I-I'm fine." He got up. "You've gotta teach her how to control it."

"That's next. You'd be surprised by how many people actually hurt somebody with that the first time they use it, though. I was worried I would be the target. This kind of summoning magic is partially controlled by your thoughts. If you don't direct it anywhere, it can latch onto the first thing you think about, or something close to it."

"I-interesting. Also nice to know you were thinking of me, Myrtle." The way Tris explained magic to him made it seem like far more than just a tool dragons took for granted. She'd really studied the way of the elements, taken everything into account. It made him curious again as to what his could be, if he had one. If magic was this fascinating, he wouldn't mind learning more about it. And who better to learn it from than the master herself?

"Anyway," he continued, "where are the others? I noticed they aren't here."

"Out gatherin' breakfast." Myrtle pointed her free paw up the path, having started summoning another pillar – he took a few apprehensive steps away – where he and the cheetah had headed the night before. "Went out around thirty minutes before you woke up. Harper woke Tris up to tell her."

"I was already awake, actually. Harper and I chatted for a little bit. Just about things."

Roland wasn't too sure what to say, but that joyous glint in her eyes was a good sign things had gone over well. She definitely seemed more cheerful than she ever had, but whether that was because of them talking it out or simply because the subject at hand had been magic, he didn't know. He had hopes Tris was free in the way she wished to speak now, though.

With Myrtle and Tris training on one side of the forest, Roland spent his time petting Fluffy – he got a big slobbery lick in return – and eating some of the jerky he'd stolen from Midrun, awaiting the return of his companions. Sure enough, Ashlyn and Harper returned a quarter of an hour later with breakfast, strange fruits from the forest he hadn't seen before that tasted of those wild apples, though juicier and far sweeter. They grabbed their things, dusted the grass off their sides, and everybody got a move on, Harper once again in the lead.

No matter how many times his eyes wandered over the forest, Roland was amazed. He wished his vision wasn't clouded by the black and the mist, but that sense of wonder probably came from the fact he could barely see. Little animals scurried across the ground, lifechains pointing the way, twinkling topaz in the dark, dark void. Flora rustled with life as they advanced; like he'd thought the previous day, these unfamiliar faces probably perturbed their tiny minds.

The gravel path was getting narrower, the rocks not as pronounced. Harper told them all not to worry, that the path would stretch out again. Much of the gravel had been kicked over the side of the bank they walked along, gathering at the bottom of a shallow stream winding over the dirt and through natural tunnels. He guessed the fault belonged to the animals. Somehow he got the feeling the forest didn't like the intruders' attempts to carve a path through their hidden world.

Myrtle told a story about how many of the lives lost in the forest had actually come from people trying to make the path. Her efforts to spook him made him groan inwardly; however, it did seem a likely tale. Ancestors rest their weary spirits.

Harper motioned for them to stop with a paw, hunched over and watching. There was a noise in the air. Thankfully, it wasn't that dreaded thumping, instead a strange sound, like rocks being clicked together. The grass shifted and a light appeared around the bend in front of them.

Tris almost squealed in delight. Right there, ahead of them, minding its own business, hopped a small rabbit with a hide of sparkling gemstones. It sniffed the ground with its tiny nose and then proceeded to raise its head. It cocked sideways, as if awaiting their move.

"I-it's a gem bunny!" Tris whispered. She was more excited than Roland had ever seen her, even more than before. "I can't believe it! We're some of the only people to have seen one! We're so lucky!"

Harper held his hips and stood straighter. "I am shocked myself, yes."

Roland wanted that thing badly. Its hide was worth hundreds of copper pieces. He held his everlasting eye for coin and wealth back, however; this was no time to cover himself in money. When he got to Warfang, he'd have to start a new hoard, maybe produced via more legal means. He hated the stereotype, but he couldn't deny he was one of those _typical_ dragons that liked a mound of money.

The gem bunny looked away, nibbling on little strands of grass. Its crystals lit up in a rainbow of colours as it consumed one of the mushrooms. Nobody spoke. Total awe fell amongst them.

"What do we do?" Ashlyn broke the quiet. Tris looked at her as if she was crazy.

"What else do we do? We catch it, silly!"

"It will run if we get close. I suggest you leave this to me." Harper moved his paw towards the pistol by his side, clutching the grip. The gem bunny's floppy ears pricked up and its head jolted towards them. Harper didn't seem able to move any further. "Or... perhaps it knows exactly what I'm doing."

Tris licked her lips. "Don't worry. I'll do it. It won't suspect a thing."

She opened her maw. Roland noticed a spark of electricity crackle around her mouth before a bolt of lightning shot through the air. For a second, it seemed like Tris had struck it, but the dwindling flame and charred remains of the grass where it had been told a different story.

The gem bunny had rushed away, quicker than the yellow dragon's element. Its light vanished into the forest, leaving only a trail of glimmering particles behind.

"Darn it!" she said. "I almost had it!"

"Better luck next time," the cheetah replied, and Roland could see the faintest hint of a smile tracing his mouth. He almost seemed glad that she hadn't killed the bunny, and thankful he hadn't blasted it with a fiery bullet. Roland assumed he didn't want to carry around the extra weight of a couple hundred gemstones. The red dragon wouldn't mind – despite his attraction to wealth, however, he knew money wasn't a priority, not when there were so many other things on his mind.

They continued onward, Harper slashing at thick vines with the broadsword by his hip. Tris' excitement returned quickly when Myrtle delved into a hearty conversation about magic with her. Myrtle's care for magic wasn't as powerful as others, Roland had gathered from previous talks with her, but she paid total attention to every single bit Tris mentioned, even the stuff that didn't matter to either of them, like the element of ice. Ashlyn's head jerked up at the mention, though, and she listened carefully to what she had to say.

Roland, though, quietly kept to himself. The life of the forest, the chatter of his group... No matter what, it was washed away beneath the rising tide of his thoughts.

He really wished he could get his mind off Drevon...

He just wanted to forget. Drevon was gone now. All that stuff in the sewer never mattered. That was then. This was now.

Stuck in the limbo of his past. On and on, he dwelled on it. Yesterday there had always been something new to focus on – for the first time in a while, he'd felt excited to do something – but now used to the alluring depths of the Everlost Forest, his mind came rushing back.

Why was this happening now, and to him? Were the Ancestors punishing him for bringing hurt and trouble to so many? Was this their way of going about it, putting him and others through more trauma than anybody, let alone a child, could ever bear?

He knew he was a tough one. He was holding his cracks together well. He intended to keep it that way.

He just didn't know how much more he could take. He felt like ripping out his own horns and screaming into the dirt sometimes. How many more would have to burn in front of him? How many more holes would be punched into his life?

...No, he couldn't be thinking like that. He had to remain hopeful. No more would be destroyed, no more would die on such a catastrophic level. He wouldn't need to trudge through the black corpses again.

Happy thoughts, Roland. Just keep it inside, bottle it up, let it all settle. Stir it up and it'll just get angrier.

"Move on, Roland... Just _move on already_."

"Say somethin', Roly?" Myrtle looked back. He looked up and shook his head. Myrtle was holding it all in, too. In fact, he could tell they all were in their own way. Were they hit with the same plague of thoughts as he? Or were they more focused on getting somewhere better than letting it bring them down?

He knew he should've been like that. He was the hopeful one, the one that tried his best to keep everyone happy. Their feelings mattered more than his, obviously. His internal feelings didn't matter. If there was ever conflict, he'd be the one to step in and solve it, even if it was at the cost of himself.

But all this didn't have a solution. He felt useless, purposeless.

That wasn't true, he tried to tell himself. Myrtle was far happier with him around. Maybe just being there was enough for now...

Maybe... he didn't have to do anything. Maybe he deserved a rest.

They needed to get to Warfang first anyway. Once they were there, finally he could lay down and slumber for hours and hours. Everyone deserved that, at the very least.

This forest had shown itself to be oppressive. He felt that maybe it would've just been better to stay in Midrun after all. But... his group had wanted to go to Warfang.

He was following without purpose, unlike the others, a broken link hanging by a thread of iron. He hadn't considered his own feelings much. What did he want out of Warfang?

No, that had never mattered. He was going with his friends. He felt like he was doing a good job keeping them all in high spirits. Ashlyn seemed happier now in spite of the conflict, Tris held her head higher than she had before, Harper's seriousness was now jaded ever so slightly, and Myrtle was happy he was _there_ , the only friend she had left from Firemore. Without him, this group wouldn't be together.

Everyone looked a lot happier than him. But why didn't he feel that way? He should've felt accomplished, yet all he had was a lurking sadness in the back of his mind, a wall of stone built brick by brick, sealing his feelings away from the others.

But that didn't matter. As long as they were happy he could be happy, right? That was how it worked...

"Then why don't I feel that way?"

His voice was so low, a mere breath that nobody could hear. Nobody needed to hear him. He was better off not telling them and ruining their joy. The very thought of doing so was selfish.

"Roland, you look pretty down..." Ashlyn whispered from beside him, low so nobody could hear, her face laced with concern. "Is... Is everything alright?"

He gave her a wide grin. "Just in thought," he murmured back. "Nothing to worry about, Ash."

She knew there was more. He could tell. And just like him with everyone else, she was determined to get to the bottom of it. Although, Roland guessed she had an inkling as to what it was. Her quiet, subtle nature brought with it a level of focus and perception.

"Y-you can talk to me." She gave him a small smile. "I won't tell–"

"Nothing's wrong. I'm fine."

"Roland, please–"

" _Nothing,_ " he repeated. He grew irritated. It was for the best that she leave it. "End of story. Zilch. I'm fine."

A frown settled on her brow and her mouth twitched with her annoyance – she had the same desire to get answers as him – but she held it back for him. Good, he thought. This was for the best, greater for all of them. Sure, it made him sound like a hypocrite, wanting answers but not dishing them out himself, but... better to tell a white lie than to concern and vex them all.

"I-I just want to help, Roland, like you've helped me."

"There is _nothing_ I need help with." His voice nearly rose above a whisper. Thankfully, the others hadn't heard him. He and Ashlyn were beginning to straggle behind. "I am okay. Alright?"

"Rol–"

" _Alright_?"

Ashlyn opened her mouth – the fuse of her temper was burning away, at the end of its line – but she didn't speak again. A harsh breath left her maw and she cast her eyes elsewhere, letting them fall upon the lifechains above, gently swinging in the breeze slipping through dim holes in the canopy. He didn't need her getting involved in his feelings. She didn't need to be dealing with those, too. She was already going through enough as it was.

He didn't think well of himself for his growing aggression, even if it was necessary. He turned to utter an apology, but she probably would've ended up asking him about his downward spiral of thoughts again, so he thought better of it.

Hours and hours of notions swirled through the depths of his brain, rooting in his sorrow. Even the wonder of the fungi and the darkness couldn't draw him away from his thoughts. He tried to start a new conversation with Ashlyn about any plans she had for Warfang when they got there, but it didn't go far. At the least, it seemed to get her mind off the irritation he'd caused her.

He just wished Drevon was here with him. If he was alive... then maybe the red dragon wouldn't be thinking like this. He'd be far happier, despite the deaths of the sewer thieves, despite the trauma shoved atop him. Part of his hope remained, but much was left to peter out and die like the rest of his life. Drevon hadn't been lying earlier. He'd wanted that...

If he was _just alive,_ Roland would stop at nothing to get to him. He didn't care what the world thought of the purple dragon; Drevon was no monster. The monster was only slumbering inside him, dark aether conquering the mind of a young drake.

Roland rubbed his glistening eyes and moved on.

* * *

Harper lifted the hat off his head, eyes fixed on the dreadwing in a strange mix of contempt and nonchalance. His mouth twitched and his rifle was clutched against his stomach, in front of his folded legs. Roland sensed his tensity, noticed his constant glances back and forth, and wondered why. Sure, Fluffy was a monster – shadowspawn, as Harper had called him – and could strike fear into others with no more than a magical shriek, but Fluffy was also kind to Roland and his companions, even the cheetah, and that paralysing fear it struck others with now seemed to have no effect on them. Perhaps it was a lingering fear that Fluffy wouldn't obey the commands of the one he'd called master and tear them apart. Roland wasn't sure otherwise.

The way Harper held that E.F. tore away Roland's ease, but the cheetah wouldn't do something so rash and horrible, would he? Harper was far more reasonable than that. Then again, fear tossed reason to the wayside, left it broken and irrecoverable...

No, he knew these constant negligible duels he held inside himself were usually unfounded. Harper would never do that.

Yet another question he could solve, though. Ashlyn and Tris were out gathering a meal for them – they'd been speaking to each other about their own magical ability; Tris had said something about teaching her something new. Myrtle was off practising the earth pillar the electric dragoness had tutored her on. Everybody was busy with something except for him and Harper, so why not ask the cat about it now?

Roland wandered over, tightening the scarf around his neck. It had a habit of coming loose. Maybe he wasn't tying Seth's gift properly.

Harper glanced at him, then back to the dreadwing. "Don't fret, Roland. I'm already aware of what you're going to ask."

"You are?"

"I'm not planning on shooting the dreadwing. I see the way you have been watching me."

"That... wasn't really my question, but that's good to know at the very least." He laughed softly. At least those obscure, unreasonable worries could cease. "I'm just curious... What makes you hate Fluffy so much?"

"That thing is a _monster_." Harper's reply was instant, without even a moment of hesitation. His soft tone vanished for the strong layer beneath. "I am curious myself over what makes you trust such a thing, especially after what we saw in the market square."

"Fluffy isn't like _them_ , though..." Roland knew there was no convincing Harper about this, but his need to try persisted. Maybe he could somehow leave an impact. "He's actually nice. He listens to me and wants to protect me. I'm sure if you returned the favour he'd snuggle with you, too. I mean, he _does_ stink, but once you get past that, he's super lovable and–"

"I think it's all a misunderstanding." Harper stood up, putting the rifle away. "Somebody sent that thing after you for reasons I can't figure out, and I'm sure it wasn't for good intentions. A person sent those other dreadwings we saw, you know. They all had necklaces as well, each with a name carved into their stone tags. Somebody owned them."

"But..." Roland wasn't sure how to argue. Harper only continued.

"They were after you and I have no clue why. They would stop at nothing to get to you. They didn't paralyse you with fear because they wanted _you_."

That could be the only explanation to his immunity to their fear blasting. They were able to direct their magic at a target. That was why his friends weren't affected anymore.

"I've wondered if _you_ had any idea why they're after you..." Harper finished, his tone once again quiet, a claw to his chin. "But you don't seem to have any clue at all."

"No, I don't," Roland said. "That's mostly why I keep Fluffy around, to figure out why he wanted me and wants to protect me. He doesn't even seem to be taking me anywhere. He's just... here, guarding me, following my orders. I wonder why that is."

"And that is why I haven't been telling you to rid yourself of it." Harper explained with a frown. "This is nonsensical. Something is not right here; I can feel it. I don't trust it, and if it does anything rash I will put it down, but, for now, I am waiting to see what it does and why it might want you. I have a feeling the purple dragon is responsible somehow..."

"I'm sure Fluffy has no ill intentions, Harper. He hasn't done anything to you. Try to get along with him at the very least."

Harper leaned down, closer than Roland expected, his frown deepening.

"One of those things took my son, Roland. I am mistrustful for a reason."

And then Harper left with no more than a huff, moving to the path the others had taken. Roland's eyes met the floor as an instant pang of stupidity hit him square in the chest.

How had he not seen that? Of course Harper didn't trust the dreadwing, and he never would! There was nothing Roland could do to change that. The red dragon wasn't sure if he could trust his own perception any longer.

But how he hated having problems left unchecked...

He tried to swallow that down for now. He really did feel worthless sometimes. There was nothing he could do to change this for the better. Acceptance was so hard.

They got moving again later when the others came back. He was glad to see Tris and Ashlyn having a conversation about magic. Ashlyn's nature kept her from becoming excited, but he could tell she was truly invested in whatever the electric dragoness had to say – something about an 'ice stream' that Ashlyn had yet to learn. He was even happier to see a meal waiting for him on their backs. They'd managed quite the catch, some furred woodland beast with overly large ears that Roland didn't recognise, along with a pouch full of mushrooms again.

They sliced the meat into rough cubes and plopped them on thin sticks found on the forest floor, then roasted them over an open flame, making a sort of kebab Roland was eager to wrap his jaws around. He'd noted that a lot of the meat he'd tried while out here tasted the same, a lot like the primary meat of the Dragon Realms, piggle. Though, this tasted more wild in a sense. It was tougher and stringy leftovers got caught between his fangs, not as tender as the piggle he was used to; enjoyable all the same, however. He didn't mind the way he was eating at all.

The meal brought him back up again before they continued and he was able to manage a smile. He called Fluffy over, wiped his maw with his scarf, and they all got moving after Harper stamped out the campfire.

They delved deeper and deeper, and the Everlost Forest seemed never-ending. He was once again captivated by its beauty. Strangely, the forest changed as they entered new areas, and he noticed all the minute details between each shift in scenery. Trees where the roots launched out of the ground, forming brown, earthy rings over the soil, some his clumsy feet tripped over – Ashlyn asked if he was okay every damn time. There were long stringy vines in another section, web-like in appearance, with little spiders crawling across them, a unique hivemind of arachnids working together – Harper didn't dare cut through them, or he would feel the wrath of thousands of venomous creatures. Another part where the forest seemed to glow brighter and the colours differed from the blues he'd become accustomed to – Tris pointed out the rainbow of colour, and Myrtle told another story about how all of the mushrooms were the elemental souls of dragons. It was her worst one yet.

But something remained constant. The lifechains that Ashlyn had been so fixed on were always there. And the further they walked, the closer they grew together, until they were in big bunches of light like natural chandeliers. He turned to ask why, though he guessed it was just another weird thing about the dark depths of the Everlost Forest.

And while he wasn't exactly wrong about that, the next thing he found was far stranger – and far more beautiful – than he foresaw.

A tree, old and gnarled, thousands of dragons tall, stood in a massive clearing before them. Lifechains hung from branches high and low, millions of them, dotting the bark with specks of azure light. Harper continued walking, but everyone else stopped at once. He spun around with his mouth open, probably to usher them over, but he noticed their total awe.

"Ah, the Eldertree. Quite magnificent, isn't it?"

He quietly went on, leaving the others to their astonishment. It was a full minute before a word was uttered.

"I'll be damned..." Myrtle whispered, surveying the tree with staggered eyes. It rose far above, further than they could see, fogged by the black. White clawed creatures swung amongst enormous vines and onto strangely artificial platforms carved into the trunk, curiosity piqued by these new arrivals, before returning to their place in the gloom. "By the Ancestors' _balls_ , it's _huge_..."

Everybody broke out of their trance for a second to stare at Myrtle before returning their attention to the tree. Roland didn't pay her much mind, though. Rightfully so, she was amazed by the Eldertree just like him. He couldn't believe his eyes. Out of all the books he'd read, none had mentioned a tree that touched the plane of the Ancestors and lived with the stars.

They headed down the hillside, brushing low-hanging vines out of their way. Wind rustled through leaves like a hide of bristles. The clacking, shifting, squeaking of tiny animals filled the dome of foliage they lay beneath. Roland had never felt insignificant in front of something before, but the Eldertree and its army of glowing eyes intimidated him, made him feel minute and unimportant.

Tris was the first to lift a paw and touch the bark of the tree, and Myrtle followed her lead. The green dragoness closed her eyes and inhaled deeply.

"I feel... different." Myrtle's voice didn't rise above a murmur, but Roland heard her loud and clear. Here she would be in tune with her element, at the point where nature and earth radiated strongest. At least, he assumed that was the case.

Meanwhile, Tris was grinning at her. "I've heard a tale or two about this place. This feels familiar to you, right?"

"...Yeah." Myrtle was quiet, listening to the tree. She drew her paw away, peering deep into the bark above. "I can feel somethin' in there, inside the tree. I've felt a bit strange just bein' inside the forest, but it's strongest right here."

"I wrote about this a long time ago when I was passing through," Harper's tone came forth, his back to the tree's wooden skin. "I feel that too, being a cheetah, though probably not as strongly as you, Myrtle. This is where that feeling begins for me. It's as though something is calling out to me, but I'm not certain as to what. Peculiar, I will say."

Roland looked between them, felt the tree, and nothing came to him. He felt at peace, though that was it. Sometimes he did wish he had an element, just so he could understand. Ashlyn didn't seem to be able to decipher it either, however, her befuddlement clear.

"I've read books that say this is where all the earth spirits gather." Tris walked over to one of the platforms at the base of the trunk and sat down. She studied the spiral design carved into the surface of each. "This tree is their gateway to the afterlife, and those lifechains hold the spirits waiting to be allowed entry."

"Oh... really?" Myrtle turned to her, brow furrowed.

"Yeah. That might be why you feel so connected to this place. It's a bit grim, though."

"I see..." Myrtle cast her head downwards, her muzzle twitching, but soon enough she was back up and grinning again. "Hey, sounds like it would make for a nice _spooky_ story."

" _Another_ one?" Roland asked, cringing at the mention. Myrtle winked. "Please no..."

"I know your taste in stories is shit, Roly," Myrtle said, shrugging, "but you just ain't seein' the _bigger_ _picture_."

"If Roland's taste is bad, then why did you say you were taking cues from him?" Tris was straight-faced, but it was obvious she was trying to keep herself from laughing. Myrtle opened her mouth, blinked a couple times, and said no more. "I would actually like to see your writing one day, Roland. Harper's told me it's surprisingly good."

"I would, but... the paper's probably all crispy now." He was still annoyed over that. He'd have to start everything again. However, he took that as best he could. That just meant he could start jotting down a better tale with the experience he'd gained from previous projects. In his opinion, the golden dragoness he wrote about was too cliched and done before anyway, and he'd have a better chance of being published one day with a new idea.

"Anyhow," Harper began, "this is where we will be staying for the night. We'll set up over there." He directed their attention to an open spot where the grass was as low as their paws and sticks were already bundled, ready to be set ablaze. It lay quite the walking distance away from the Eldertree, almost on the edge of the clearing. He wondered how Harper had managed to set up and get back so quickly. "We've had our fun, but we shouldn't wander like this. Tomorrow we should be about halfway through these woods."

"Good to know," Myrtle said. "These feelings are cool and all, but I still hate this place."

"Yes, I'm not particularly fond of the Everlost Forest, either." The group moved to the spot where Harper had set up the sticks for their campfire. "I assume it's the monsters lurking in the shadows? Staying on the path will keep them away from us, but that eerie feeling of being followed..."

"Heh... you could say that."

Roland relaxed his spine against a soft tree shadowing the clump of timber. The short, pointed spines lining his back dug into wooden flesh. "Wow, Myrtle. You're _scared_?"

"I'll hit you with an earth pillar if you don't shut up, lanky." Myrtle leaned forward. Threateningly, she summoned a trace of green that whizzed around her mouth and vanished where it'd begun. "Mark my words."

Roland let his newfound nerves out in a chuckle.

"Your words are marked." He looked at Fluffy, then to the rest of the group. The dreadwing was ready for a meal, as were they all. He felt bad for Fluffy, who hadn't exactly received many proper meals in comparison to the rest of them. He was waiting for the moment the dreadwing would start complaining. "Anyway... who's hunting?"

"I'll do it," Ashlyn immediately chimed in, jumping to her paws. She had this excited look about her. "Do you want to come with me, Tris?"

"Of course!" Tris smirked.

Harper nodded, silent, and pointed to a new gravel path that started beyond the Eldertree, winding further into the deep belly of Everlost.

"Okie dokie. Let's go and try that ice stream, Ash."

It was a good hour that they were gone. Roland had settled behind the tree overlooking the campfire and was watching them all with his head turned. Harper had this worrisome look on his face the whole time, his mind probably thinking foreboding thoughts, yet they were only using the time they had to practice magic. Ashlyn was especially cheerful when she jogged back, conversing with Tris. Seemed she'd made a friend in the yellow dragoness, and that delighted Roland. If only she could make friends with Myrtle, too...

He had to wonder: what would Tris do if she found out about the things Ashlyn and her father brought around? Her life had crumbled too, and even though she did well to focus on the future, she would at the very least miss Firemore. Would she blame Ashlyn? Would she tell Harper? What then?

Would Ashlyn's feet give way unto the pit of misery she'd only just managed to step across?

They could keep it a secret, though. The only person he was worried about letting something slip was Myrtle, but he trusted her enough to keep her mouth closed. For the sake of Ashlyn, they couldn't tell her.

He could live with the way they were getting along now. They chattered about mana and the elements, and smiled and laughed. It was great to see.

He also noted Myrtle's occasional glances and the uncomfortable look on her face. She was trying to chat with Harper, but their conversation didn't exactly lead anywhere. Maybe he should've been over there, keeping her occupied when confused, worried thoughts were probably rolling through her head at miles a second. But what could he even say to stop them?

Fluffy tramped over, his head tilted and his monstrous features twisted into concern. His main focus was on Roland, but his gleaming yellow eyes averted every now and then, to the great tree standing proud behind him. The dreadwing's flat snout twitched like the gem bunny's, and his legs quivered as if he knew something were inside. Could Fluffy feel those elements, too?

Or maybe Fluffy just wanted out of this forest.

"It's okay, bud," Roland whispered and placed his paw on Fluffy's neck. "We'll be out of here soon."

But Fluffy whined and stamped in place, and Roland knew he'd seen that same action before, when the monster beyond the light had frightened them all.

"It won't get us," he said. "It won't go beyond the dark. It's just trying to coax us out. But we'll be fine if we ignore it. Harper said so."

Fluffy didn't seem convinced and Roland knew there was nothing he could do. If he'd seen the beast like the dreadwing had, he might've even felt the same way.

"Just try not to think about it, Fluffy. I'm here for you. I just wonder why you're here for me."

He didn't look happy about that, as if he wished he could speak and tell him. Roland sighed.

"Hopefully I'll find out sooner rather than later..."

* * *

Roland awoke as soon as he felt grass brushing beneath his cheek. He latched onto the ground in a vain endeavour to find the monster he'd called his pillow, but the dreadwing was nowhere to be seen, not with his heavy, blurred eyes.

The red dragon lifted himself from his side. "F-Fluffy?"

The dreadwing didn't answer him. Roland lifted himself up, deciding it best to try and look for him. He padded to a pond a few metres from the tree he'd slumbered behind and washed the sleep from his eyes.

Roland almost moved on, but he was suddenly struck by his appearance. He peered into his rippling reflection and called his search for Fluffy off for a moment while he inspected himself.

Since Firemore, he'd started looking a lot better. He was still that same mucky red dragon, but the cuts had cleared and the vertical slice through his right eye had faded to the point it was barely noticeable, at least not in the shine of the fungi. The two fangs that'd been knocked out of his skull weren't going to come back, but he did notice an odd improvement; his once attenuated figure had thickened. Myrtle was still right to call him lanky, but he could no longer see his rib cage beneath his chest.

Had he really not been eating that well before? He'd barely even noticed the lack of food he'd once consumed, and no one had really mentioned how sickly he looked. This journey had him eating consistent meals everyday, and with about a week of travelling having passed, he was already looking much better. Still thin, almost feminine in his form, no longer starved and skeletal.

He even stopped to admire himself, striking a little pose. He found he was a bit put off by how he did look now, though. Dirt smeared into the cracks between his scales, his messy head of frills... Maybe... Maybe being known as the smelly dragon wasn't in his cards anymore. He wondered if Harper had soap. The cheetah always kept himself clean somehow; he wasn't afraid to admit that a pleasant, fruity aroma lingered wherever the cheetah stood.

Roland shook his head. He was getting off track. He could have a quick look through Harper's rucksack later, but for now he had a pillow to find.

He sneaked past the others and walked the three minute journey towards the Eldertree first, the very centre of the glade. He'd be able to see everything from there. He followed the mushrooms along the ground, looking to the lifechains lying dormant high above, leaves crunching beneath his feet. He looked out from where he was, but Fluffy wasn't within his cone of vision.

"W-what are you doing here?"

At first he thought that was directed at him, but there was nobody to look at. Myrtle's voice came from beyond the tree, around the other side. He put his head against the tree and listened to what she was saying. A low coo came shortly after and he immediately recognised the tone of the dreadwing.

"Well... fine, but you gotta be quiet, alright?"

He wondered what she was doing, but was he supposed to know? She sounded... distressed, in a way. He wasn't sure how to describe it. And why had Fluffy left him?

He wanted to leave... but his curiosity kept him from going anywhere. He felt horrible for that, but he had an urge to know if something was wrong and if he could help her rid herself of the problem.

As much as it pained him to listen behind her back, his desire to help was too strong. Wrong, but he had good intentions.

"Where do I even start?" she asked herself. "She said all the earth spirits gather here. Can I even talk to you?"

Roland studied his paws. He knew this wasn't something he was supposed to listen to, definitely not. If she hadn't told him, despite the two of them being good friends, then she probably wasn't willing to let anyone know. This was a total invasion of privacy. He thought it best to leave and turned away, without Fluffy in tow.

"Don't worry, Roly. I know you're there. I can... _feel_ you through the ground and the tree."

Roland jerked upright. So in tune with her element, she could feel his very presence through the earth. He should've suspected it, but now that he'd been caught red-pawed, he couldn't help but hang his head and walk around the trunk.

He found Myrtle with her back to the tree, her eyes to the sky, tiny rays of moonlight spearing through the canopy cast overhead. Fluffy lifted his head for a second, but his focus remained on Myrtle.

"I... Sorry, Myrtle," he said. "I was just looking for Fluffy and then I heard you, and I couldn't really help it. I just wanted to know if something was up."

"Don't worry," she replied. "Nothin' wrong with me. I was just tryin' to talk to somebody, but... Well, it's pretty damn stupid, honestly. Dunno what I was thinkin'.

She smiled in that usual 'Myrtle' sort of way, treating it like some big old joke. But he knew there was more to it than that, and he wanted to know if there was anything she'd actually tell him now that he was here.

"Who?" he voiced.

Myrtle shrugged. "Eh, just an old friend. Knew him all the way back when I lived in the Shattered Vale. We had some good times together, but he's not with me anymore. If I'm over here, I guess ya can put two and two together."

He nodded. She wasn't fazed in the slightest. She looked almost as though she didn't care, but that couldn't be right if she was coming over here to speak with him.

"You've never really told me about any of that stuff, back when you lived there." He set himself down next to her. Fluffy shadowed the two dragons with his larger wingspan. "Who was this friend?"

"His name was Corwin," she responded. "Reminded me of myself. We were basically a spittin' image of each other. He... Well, he practically raised me."

She had a mother, that Roland knew of, but he could assume from her words that she had a similar sort of situation to him. Seth had brought him up when he ran from home, having been sick of all the arguing.

"Why weren't you with your mum?" he asked. He was edging on personal territory, he could tell. His inquisitive nature pushed him further, though, no matter how bad he felt about it.

"Heh, well, uh..." Her smirk lost a lot of its curl, and then she parted her maw. "I... Well, let's just say she didn't really want me, Roland. I wasn't a good kid. Deserved it, really."

"Kicked out?" he asked. She waited a moment before slowly nodding her head.

"Yeah. I wasn't the child she wanted. Got caught up in spirit gems and stuff, I did, and I still am. She didn't like that a single bit..."

She fell silent for a time, and Roland, for once, wasn't sure what to say. He couldn't exactly help with a situation like this, something totally out of reach.

Myrtle let out a soft sigh and then looked up at him again, the smile back. "Sorry, gettin' off track. I guess I should tell you why I hate this place."

"It's more than just being scared, I guess," he said. Myrtle nodded.

"Yeah. Me and Cor left the Shattered Vale together and we went all the way across the continent. We were gonna stop at Firemore. Honestly, the journey was kinda fun. We did a lot together. He taught me how to steal, how to hunt, all that stuff. Really good times... I do miss them."

"And... then something happened?" he continued for her.

Myrtle bowed her head. "Yeah... We got to the Everlost Forest. Got lost, couldn't find our way out. I had a feeling we were going in circles. The pair of us didn't know all the stories about how you'll never find your way out if you don't follow the path."

She leaned her head back, passing yet another breath.

"Wasn't a monster we found. Bandits that came from the Dustlands, lost inside the forest themselves. We had a lot of spirit gems on us and they attacked us on sight. That's how I got this scar–" She pointed to the horizontal slash across her eyes "–and... and how I lost Cor. He held 'em off for me and I managed to get away, but he died fighting 'em."

"I... I'm really sorry, Myrtle." There wasn't much more he could say. What else could he do? There was nothing and that annoyed him to no end. Myrtle, however, continued to smile.

"It's 'kay. Happened a long time ago." She snickered despite herself. "This whole 'talk to him' thing is stupid anyway. I'm just an idiot. Of course I can't, like... commune with the dead or anything."

Roland shrugged. "I get it, though. You miss him."

"Yeah... I wish he was still here." Myrtle sighed and then stood. She patted him on the back with her wing. "You would've loved him. You love me and we were practically the same."

" _Love_ is putting it a bit strongly, dirt-breath." He chuckled. Fluffy still watched Myrtle with concern, but his eyes now seemed to flicker over the tree, as if studying the grooves in the bark. The dreadwing stood on his hind legs and pressed his wings against the Eldertree's skin, then raked a talon down the surface.

Roland frowned at the dreadwing's abnormal behaviour. "Fluffy?"

"What's it doing?" she asked. Roland wasn't sure how to answer. He put a paw to Fluffy's side.

"You okay, bud?" Fluffy turned to him and then quickly back to the tree. Roland cocked his head. "I'm... not sure what you mean."

The dreadwing fell to all fours once again. His mouth moved and sounds came forth, but they made no sense, at least not in his tongue. Clearly something about the tree had taken the dreadwing's interest, though.

"We need a translator." Myrtle chuckled slightly. "Oh well. Let's go to bed. I'm sure it's nothin'. It's probably just all the earth energy in there."

"I'm not quite sure about that, but maybe something did just startle him." Roland pressed his paw against the Eldertree. "I just wish I could tell what Fluffy means. I really do need a translator."

"C'mon, Roly." Myrtle draped her wing over his back and gently urged him forward. "Let's leave it. Us kids need our sleep."

Fluffy was still whining by the time they got back to the campfire, but he left it alone after Roland told him to shush so he could sleep again. Roland was unsure whether Fluffy's actions meant anything or not – the last times Fluffy had been trying to get his attention, it had been over something important or dangerous to them – but how was he supposed to interpret the dreadwing's whines and snorts this time? Fluffy had directed him to nothing but the Eldertree.

He decided to leave it and maybe investigate the tree tomorrow. It wasn't worth his time at the moment. He was too tired to bother.

Roland closed his eyes and fell asleep atop a quivering Fluffy.


	22. Bright Eyes

Bright Eyes

Roland's eyes flickered open to a whining Fluffy. The campfire still danced with embers; he reached into his satchel and pulled out his pocket watch. He held it to the fungi and squinted at its thin hands, realising it'd been hardly an hour since his conversation with Myrtle.

"Oh, Fluffy..." He pushed harder into the dreadwing's stomach. He rolled his head back and peered into Fluffy's upside-down face. "What _now_?"

Fluffy nodded at the Eldertree. Roland let his frustration out in a long groan.

"In the _morning_... Ancestors, bud. Let me get some sleep."

But the dreadwing wasn't having any of it. He rolled onto his side and Roland tumbled off, landing in the grass with a pained grunt. He didn't get up; he just stared at Fluffy as if he was insane. At times he wished Fluffy did get sleep instead of staying up all night. Sure, having that extra person on watch was great and all, but he couldn't deal with being woken up all the time by his worrywart of a pet.

Fluffy bent down, wetting Roland's face with his forked tongue. Roland pushed the beast's head away and rolled to his feet with a sigh, wiping off the monster's drool.

"For fuck's sake... Fine." He stuck a claw in the dreadwing's face. "But no more. Seriously, bud. I _need_ to sleep. I know you shadowspawn apparently don't need it, but you can at _least_ be a little more considerate."

Roland wasn't bothered to check if Fluffy nodded or not. As soon as he got moving, the dreadwing leaped in front of him and fluttered over to the tree. The red dragon followed, hunched and his mood soured. He noted Tris was on watch, but she was staring the other way, her gaze set on the metallic replica of a paw she'd constructed. She didn't heed his presence.

The dreadwing stopped at the base of the tree, up on his hind legs like before. He raked at bark with his talons and curved horns, flat face pressed against the Eldertree. Roland watched for a moment, but considered waiting a waste of his time and peered at the lifechains and fungi for amusement. He felt calmed by the stars in paw's reach and the thin cerulean rays they cast.

His eyes fell upon Fluffy again, who had moved an ample distance around the tree, only his left eye visible around the other side. In spite of enervation tugging vigorously at his eyes, Roland was too curious over Fluffy's puzzling search to draw the dreadwing back to the campfire. He followed the beast around the tree for minutes. Fluffy scratched at the bark, took a slight step around, and then repeated his actions over and over, until he started tapping on the wood as well.

"Fluffy... What are you doing?" Roland finally asked when they were halfway around the Eldertree. The dreadwing didn't listen, too invested in this fruitless quest to find whatever his attention had been snared by. Roland waited grumpily for his oversized cushion to give up on his silly endeavours.

And then there was a knock on the bark as though it were the door to a desolate chamber. Roland jerked his head up – Fluffy's legs were locked in place. Roland frowned, thinking perhaps part of the tree had been hollowed about by the animals. They did seem smarter than the average critter; there were carvings everywhere and artificial platforms sculpted into the tree, like the basis of some primitive society. But he was curious as to how they'd gotten in. He hadn't seen an entrance anywhere. Maybe it was higher up.

Fluffy hadn't made a noise, the side of his head flat against the tree's skin. Roland awaited the dreadwing's next course of action. He wasn't prepared for it.

Fluffy drew his head back and slammed his horned cranium into the bark. Thick wood shattered with a crack. Splinters showered Roland's scales and he coughed on the sawdust.

He looked up, waving the wood particles away, and was baffled, first at the dreadwing's bizarre decision and then at the opening created. At first he foresaw a hole teeming with life, animals scurrying away at the sign of an intruder. What he saw instead was the beginning of a spiralling staircase within the walls of the tree. The Eldertree was but the hollow skeleton of a colossus.

He wandered inside with the dreadwing; Fluffy seemed unfazed, as if he'd known this had been here the whole time. The tree echoed with footsteps that reverberated across the walls until they reached the top. Lifechains came in clusters, spheres of light growing and crawling across the tree's flesh. A pillar of timber stood in the centre and coiled around it was the start of the long, natural staircase.

"What have you found, Fluffy?" Roland rubbed his eyes to make sure what he was seeing was truly there. They weren't deceiving him. Yet more secrets of the forest was uncovered. Roland wandered over to the staircase and looked beyond the pillar: only an unending flight of stairs concealed by the black he'd grown accustomed to.

He turned his head to the dreadwing, who had already started walking up the steps.

"Wait, Fluffy..." He threw a wing up, but Fluffy didn't listen and went on, almost as though he didn't want to pay Roland's question any mind.

Roland wet his maw. He had the urge to go back and tell the others of this discovery, but he couldn't leave the dreadwing alone right now, not in these woods, and definitely not in this tree. Maybe they'd heard the crack and would come rushing over, but he wasn't sure because of the Eldertree's distance from their encampment.

His curiosity was getting the better of him anyway. He didn't exactly want to awaken the others, either, and Fluffy would probably drag him back by the scruff of the neck at this point if he went anywhere other than up. He could show them all the dreadwing's discovery in the morning. For now, Roland jogged forward and bounced up the steps in twos in an attempt to catch up.

Fluffy ignored his presence, looking away all moody-like. Roland knew firsthand that Fluffy's discoveries were never to be taken lightly. He'd been wrong to blatantly ignore that this was important. He hung his head and let out a sigh. He'd been far too harsh on his beastly companion.

He looked up at him. Fluffy didn't cast him his gaze at all like he usually did. The emotion of this monstrous creature had never been difficult to discern, dragon-like in the way his face contorted into different feelings. And, right now, that frown and those clenched fangs made Roland feel worse by the moment.

"I'm sorry, bud," he let out. He didn't get even a groan in response. Silence was all this shrieking, noisy monster would permit from his maw. "Oh, c'mon, Fluffy... I know I was a dick, but you're making me feel like the scum of the Realms."

The dreadwing's snort was harsh. He turned his head. Roland exhaled.

"I shouldn't ignore you, period. You're trying to help and protect me. You want to make sure I know what's going on. It was very wrong to treat you the way I did. Please, Fluffy..."

Still no answer. Roland was almost glaring at this point.

"I'll give you my next meal if you talk to me."

And, of course, the dreadwing twisted around with his tongue hanging from his jaws. His throat produced something equivalent to a hearty bark. It was strange seeing such a hideous beast let that out.

Roland smirked. "Attaboy. I do feel really bad, though. I just wonder what you've found..."

He felt as if he'd stumbled into somebody's house; he was already a trespasser under these shadows. Who would live in this tree, however? Unless it'd long since been abandoned? Perhaps it was the doing of these animals, but how creatures were intelligent enough to form a clean, solid structure like this was beyond him. Rough platforms, maybe. A huge spiralling staircase, though? The Everlost Forest was home to many a new secret.

The carvings here were more present than they were outside, and not just in those spirals either. Lines carved into bark, straight and jagged, forming pictures, scenes he didn't understand, backlit by blue hues like water flowing through cracks. He thought he saw horns and wings, like those of dragons, and upon further inspection realised their front legs were missing. These dragons stood and walked on their legs and wings.

He knew they were not dragons but instead wyverns. And this seemed to have once been a place of residence for them, one of the only pieces of their civilisation left, or at least that's what he assumed. He wasn't sure of that fact. Wyvern artefacts and civilisation – the only pieces that still remained anyway – weren't like this. From speculation alone, he pictured towering buildings made of black and grey stone, with jagged edges and old weaponry abound. Why would they inhabit the inside of a tree?

Maybe this place was dedicated to their own worship somehow. The wyverns wouldn't construct something like this, so maybe other creatures had done it. Nobody could be sure, though. He had questions that he knew would remain unanswered for all time.

Why was the entrance sealed up in the first place? Yet another thing he didn't think he would find answers for.

He and Fluffy had been the first to locate this structure and that wasn't surprising considering that not many walked through the Everlost Forest. The small army sent from Midrun would've been one of the very few groups to pass through in years. He had to wonder why _they_ didn't take the boats around, though. Maybe they had to take a stop on the way to Warfang at Scaletooth, the mountain town set on high cliffs a short distance beyond the woods, to gather more troops. There would be nowhere to dock a ship there for miles and miles. They probably could've sent one of their messenger hawks to carry the message to Scaletooth, but he guessed it would be easier to explain the situation in person.

Well, the situation that didn't exist anymore...

He got that out of his mind and focused on the tower at paw. The oddity of this situation filled him with more inquisition than ever before. The stairs never seemed to end; round and round the pillar they spiralled, ascending into the heavens. He hadn't been able to see the top of the tree when he was outside. How far did it go? How did a tree of this scale survive without its organs? Who were these wyverns to create such things, structures utterly impossible?

There had to be explanation waiting for him at the top. He couldn't go without another. His mind brewed a growing broth swimming with questions, at the point of boiling over.

The stairs, gently lit by the blue carvings, came to an abrupt end. Roland realised as soon as he lifted his leg on instinct and stumbled forward, thankfully caught by Fluffy's wing before he could fall. The red dragon brushed the monster's leathery limb away, his eyes on the tree's ceiling.

Roland entered the chamber before him. The walls were high, covered in sprawling vines like veins that snaked around clusters of spirit gems, pumping a liquid as viscous as tree sap through the room. Old parchments and scrolls lined shelves carved out of the tree itself, torn and worn, and what resembled a desk was snapped in half, devoured in the tangle of flora. Lifechains hung from the ceiling, but they took on the colour of the glowing liquid pulsing through the vines, a soft translucent green. Stood in the centre was a raised, circular container. Faint wisps of green light rose and withered away from within.

Roland stepped forward and climbed the gentle slope towards the container, Fluffy joining him on his right, ignoring the other room he glimpsed on his left, the doorway covered in vines. He looked within and found a pool of murky water, as if stained a deep green by moss, rippling like someone was dipping a claw within. He'd only ever seen something like it once, on the singular occasion he'd been to the dragon temple in Firemore. This was a pool of visions, an ancient tool used by dragons to see glimpses into the future. Being a highly magical race, dragons were susceptible to visions; he'd had one of his own not long ago. This pool allowed them to be interpreted easily, or so those experienced with it said. He'd never been able to gather anything from one.

He was distracted from his thoughts by a sound, familiar. It hadn't been long since he'd heard it last.

 _Ka-thump_.

He turned to the other room. Fluffy's entire body jolted in the direction of the sound. Hesitantly, Roland paced over. He slashed the weak vines away with his dull tail blade. Green liquid oozed out of the severed ends like blood from a wound. He held himself back from entering the room, knowing full well what had happened last time he'd heard that sound.

He poked his head around the corner. In a thin, glowing chamber covered in spirit gems was the egg he'd been suspecting, a throbbing green sac holding another body like a wyvern. Fluffy cowered by Roland, his composure broken by the mere sight of it.

 _Ka-thump_.

The wind screamed. A ragged curtain hanging by mere threads at the end of the room flapped in the breeze. Thin, shattered bark rolled along the ground, deriving from a hole recently blast into the tree. He could feel the magic laced in the air, thick and powerful.

Atop the new windowsill stood a hornless black dragon, bright eyes casting beams of light into the dark.

Roland's heart just about stopped.

"D-Drevon..."

Roland parted his mouth, too shocked to move anything else, to say any more. Drevon stood stiff, clouded eyes peering into a black as deep as himself.

 _Ka-thump_.

Drevon lifted ebony wings. Roland's eyes widened. He shot around the corner, uncaring for the egg before him. Fluffy's screech echoed across the Eldertree. Paws were scampering behind him.

"Drevon! Wait!"

The purple dragon fell from the tree and shot through the air, disappearing without a trace. Roland rushed towards the windowsill. The egg thumped hard.

" _Drevon_!"

And as soon as he got too close, it exploded in a blinding wash of white, and Roland felt himself leave reality for the third time.

* * *

" _Now_ this _is what I'm talkin' about."_

 _Roland scrunched his nose up. "You're happy about this, Myrtle? You can't smell that? What even is that!?"_

" _This is where nostrils go to die, Roly," Myrtle replied in that same joking tone she always did. "This is what we call a sewer."_

" _What's a sewer?"_

" _It's where all your shit goes," Seth elaborated, his voice dry and humourless. He seated himself on the long stone walkway, one of two held within one of the many massive pipes beneath Firemore. "It all comes down here and then it slowly moves down the pipeline through that river down there until it falls into the ocean."_

 _Roland couldn't believe this. He'd prefer the streets to living in these pipes! Seth was really suggesting they go_ here _?_

" _Why this place?" Drevon, who'd been waiting behind Roland, spoke up. It'd been around a month since they'd met the young purple dragon. Roland thought him shy and his sister even more so, and that was still the case much of the time – they both kept to each other a lot – but they had started opening up. Roland would go as far as to say they were fitting in._

" _Because this place is hidden. Nobody will find us down here. We'll only have to worry about the people doing maintenance, but it's easy enough to hide from them." Seth dropped his satchel on the ground and rustled through its contents. Green gemstones were pulled from within, dull and uncut. Roland asked why he'd desired weaker spirit gems and Seth had said something about the risk of crystallisation and gem burn being lower. He wasn't sure what he needed them for, though._

" _This place is awesome!" Carolin chimed in, unexpected from someone like her. Her green scales shone and the stubby horns atop her head glimmered in the sunlight from the outside, where the ocean lay an open maw before them. At least Roland knew he could get out for a breather if he couldn't deal with this stench. But he didn't want to stay here anyway!_

" _Stop lookin' so damn sour, Roland." Myrtle clapped him on the back with a wing. He narrowed his eyes. "You're like a bloody lemon."_

" _I dunno about you, Myrtle, but I don't wanna live in my own crap!"_

" _Neither do I," Seth told him. "But this is the best we've got. I know the Dragon Realms aren't harsh towards children that commit crimes, but we need to stay hidden, just in case. I'm not sure about you, Roland, but I don't exactly want to be caught by the guard and returned to my mum... or that bloody orphanage for that matter."_

 _Everybody else nodded in agreement. Roland parted his maw, but could only let his defeat out in a sigh. "...Okay, you have a point. I'm still not happy about the stink, though."_

" _I'm sure you'll get used to it." Seth let a smirk play along his muzzle. "It's this way or no way."_

 _Roland wasn't sure he would. That stench burning away at his nostrils like some kind of acid... He'd make sure he'd go outside as much as possible just to get away from it._

 _He didn't have much of a choice in this matter. This was better than going home. He couldn't go there now, not after his mother..._

 _This would be better for him. This was his home now._

* * *

" _C'mon, Drevon! Grab my paw!"_

 _Drevon, heavy sack by his side, reached through the shattered window, grabbing Roland's outstretched paw. The red dragon heaved him and the heavy bag through and onto the balcony outside. His friend wiped the sweat lacing his brow and Roland took one side of the bag, crouching down in preparation to flee from the scene._

" _Get the hell back here!" the deep voice from within the building boomed. The lights inside flickered on and two pairs of legs came stomping up the stairwell. "Stop!"_

" _L-let's go!" the purple dragon told him, voice shaky. "On three! O-one, two..._ three _!"_

 _The pair of thieves leaped onto the stone railing, dove towards the street, and carried their momentum into the air. They shot through the arch of a short bridge crossing Firemore a level higher, and the victim's tone faded with the wind howling in their ear holes._

 _Roland, his breath coming in ragged pants, looked to the purple dragon with a huge grin. They'd done it yet again. The Red Rodent and the unseen purple terror, once more with victory literally in their grasp. Their sack was brimming with copper; Roland thought he heard a few coins ring as they hit the ground, but it didn't matter. They had more than what they'd come for._

 _It took Roland a while to notice that Drevon wasn't smiling, his face obscured by the dark. His shadowed eyes were to the ground and, while stable in the air, the flaps of his wings were weak. He had a paw clutched to his side._

" _Drevon?" Roland asked over the wind. "You okay?"_

" _Y-y-yeah." He nodded. "I-I'm... I'm fine."_

 _Roland peered harder into that dark spot beneath the pad of Drevon's paw. Purple mixed with vile red, scarlet droplets slipping through the cracks between his toes and sprinkling against the stone path like dewdrops. Roland just about ground to a halt in the air._

" _Y-you're bleeding!" the red dragon said. Looking closer, he could see the angry gash beneath his paw. If anything, it was no minor injury._

" _I'm fine, bud, rea–"_

" _No." Roland started slowing, and with the bag gripped in both of their paws, Drevon had to follow suit. "We're landing. C'mon."_

 _Drevon didn't argue further. They descended upon Firemore again and ducked into a secluded alleyway, dropping the bag and letting its contents spill all over the ground. Roland followed a limping Drevon towards the high stone wall and stopped as he turned around and fell against the wall, his stomach exposed._

 _It was worse than Roland thought it had been. His whole side was stained crimson, and the blood wasn't stopping. Drevon's face was paling and his eyes were in a half-squint, breath slow. Somehow this eleven-year-old managed to hold himself together in spite of the obvious agony._

 _Roland couldn't help but stare in disbelief. It'd all gone wrong. Drevon was looking into his eyes, pain and despair in his own. "I... I don't... f-feel so good."_

" _H-hang on, Drevon..." Roland panicked as he fumbled with the button on his small satchel. He drew a glimmering red gemstone from within and held it out for Drevon. "Take this."_

 _Drevon reached out and took it from his paws. "W-what do I do...?"_

" _Crush it in your paws." Roland's heart hammered. Drevon was going to be fine, but anxiety conquered his system anyway. "Seth taught me."_

" _S-S-Seth?" Drevon uttered, as if the name was taboo. "I..."_

" _D-do it!" Roland urged. "Before you pass out!"_

 _Drevon looked at the red gemstone with what seemed like trepidation, then flexed his paw. The gemstone disintegrated. Little red particles darted from between his toes and shot towards the bleeding slash. Roland watched as the wound sealed over with new scales in nearly an instant, and the horrible red stopped flowing over Drevon's body. Drevon, shocked by this, put a paw to the visible remnants of the injury he'd sustained, but cringed in pain before he could exclaim his surprise._

 _Roland breathed a huge sigh of relief. He was so terribly thankful for having the way into the element-locked vault and having the intelligence to bring healing gemstones just in case something like this happened. Drevon could've very easily dropped from the sky if they'd kept going... or worse._

" _What happened?" Drevon questioned. "I... W-where did the cut go?"_

" _I'm surprised you've never used a spirit gem." Roland managed a soft chuckle. Drevon was too in awe to smile. "It's almost like you've never been hurt before."_

" _Well, I... I never really had a chance to get hurt, honestly." The purple dragon shrugged. "Anyway, the pain's almost gone. How does that even work?"_

" _I dunno. Magic." Roland grinned. This time Drevon returned it. "How did you get the cut? Did that guy get you, or...?"_

" _On the window," he nonchalantly explained. "The shattered glass got me when you pulled me through. I'm surprised I held myself together so well."_

 _Roland recoiled from the mention of that. That could've gone a whole lot worse for him. And not only that. Roland had caused it with his recklessness. "I... S-sorry, I didn't mean to–"_

" _No, no, totally fine," Drevon laughed. Roland wasn't so sure. He could've killed him if he hadn't recognised the injury. They'd barely been friends together now, and he could've ended that so easily..._

 _Drevon cocked his head. Even his young mind realised what was going through the red dragon's head._

 _The purple dragon got up with his paw clutched to his stomach. He wavered as if drunk, exhausted after losing so much blood. Drevon walked over with a paw outstretched. He placed it atop Roland's shoulder; Roland averted his gaze._

" _It's fine, bud," Drevon began. "It was an honest mistake. I know how bad this could've gone, but it didn't because you stopped me. In fact, I could've just about killed myself if you didn't force me down. So maybe you did hurt me pretty bad, but you saved my hide, too. It's not like you meant to do it anyway, and I also could've been more careful around the glass."_

 _Roland exhaled. He guessed the young dragon was right. Just a little mistake. Nothing to worry about, really._

" _Alright." Roland grinned. He moved to the purple dragon's side and wrapped a wing around him. "We should go, though. And you look way too tired to go by yourself, or fly for that matter."_

 _Drevon, face pale and legs shaking, couldn't agree more. They moved through the alleyway and stopped at the sack of copper. "Yeah, but... what about the bag? You can't carry it by yourself."_

" _Forget it." Roland shrugged. "You're more important right now."_

 _The purple dragon opened his mouth, but no words came through. For a second Roland thought he'd said something wrong, but then a thin smile split Drevon's muzzle._

" _Thanks, bud. It means a lot."_

 _Roland nodded his head and moved on, leaving the sack of copper for some other lucky soul to find. They could probably use the money more than that rich freak anyway._

 _They turned onto the street and followed the lights back. It was going to be a long walk through the night, but Roland could deal with that._

 _He was helping a friend out and that was all that mattered._

* * *

Roland shot to his feet, a paw clasped against his heart. He stumbled into a wall and pushed his whole body against it, breath coming in uneven gasps. The Eldertree swirled with a bleary blue, and something wet oozed down his nostrils.

He stood still with his eyes closed for a few seconds, and then everything returned to normal. He fell to his hindquarters with his foot to the wall.

"W-what is that?" he asked himself. This was his third time experiencing it. What was this magic that knocked him into unconsciousness and drew blood from his nose? Why had he seen everything through a tint of blue? Why was he seeing things from the past?

Fluffy stopped behind him. Roland turned to look at his whimpering, worrying friend, and wondered what made him so special, to tame a dreadwing and experience events like these. Out of the corner of his eye he spotted the orange gemstones again, dissolving.

And then, beyond that, the form of a yellow dragoness standing in the doorway to the room he'd found Drevon in.

He spun around, looked at Tris, and didn't know what to say to her. What had she seen? Had she seen Drevon? Did she know he was the purple dragon?

The answer was disheartening.

"I... I saw everything, Roland." Tris was perfectly still. She didn't move a muscle. "The... That egg. The magic. The purple dragon... I heard you shout his name."

He put his paws on his head. She'd followed him into the tree and was probably the only person who'd heard the timber explode.

"Drevon... Is that his name?"

She'd seen it all. There was no point in lying to her anymore. If he did, he was sure she would tell Harper what she'd seen. And what then? After the conversation he'd had with Harper yesterday about his distrust for dreadwings, Roland couldn't trust him with that kind of information. But what if she said something anyway?

There was only one way to find out. There was nothing else he could do. He nodded his head.

"I-I know you've been hiding something from me," the yellow dragoness continued. "You three all have. And I... I was fine with that. I guessed there had been an argument between the other two and that's why you were all so tense. But now that I know the purple dragon is involved... I-I don't want to be deceived anymore. I want the truth."

He could understand. Tris took a step closer.

"Can you tell me what's going on?" she asked. "Why you're all not talking to each other? Why Firemore's gone? That's... That's all I wanna know."

Roland got off the ground and brushed off his sides. He looked up at Fluffy, then back to the dragoness before him. Fluffy was shivering, but he stood by Roland in protection anyway. "It's... a long story, Tris, but I'll try my best to keep it concise."

It all started with Ashlyn joining their guild of thieves under the guise that she was another willing thief. Trusting and naïve, they'd let an assassin into their ranks. She'd seemed fine at first, a little timid, but that was all. And that was when the blue dragon murdered Carolin, one of their youngest and the purple dragon's sister, for a plot developed by the Guardians in Warfang.

His already breaking best friend snapped and destroyed everything; Firemore and all their lives. Roland had blamed it all on the ice dragoness at first, but after he listened to her story of horrible abuse and manipulation, and was able to relate to it himself, he managed to let that notion go after simply watching her try to be good. She'd never wanted any of it and had constantly berated herself for it, despite nearly all of the blame falling upon her father.

Myrtle had never been able to forgive the ice dragoness, which Roland was able to understand, but she'd explained she would tolerate her and not say anything. He'd promised not to say a word about it, too. He'd had no choice but to break it now.

Tris, silent for the whole five minutes it took, lowered her head. Her paws were clenched against the ground. No reaction. Roland's heart hammered.

She lifted her eyes again. "What about him? Fluffy? And that egg?"

"Those are things I don't know." Roland sighed. "Things I really wanna figure out. I swear, I have absolutely no idea."

Tris nodded. Roland awaited judgement. What would she do? Would she feel the same as Myrtle? Worse?

She'd lost just about everything too. She was just like him. If Roland wasn't scared for Ashlyn now, he would be terrified for himself.

Tris wet her mouth. Her words were shocking to hear.

"I... I understand."

She... understood?

"It's all so... so far-fetched, but it makes sense. The way you've all been acting, how secretive you've been. That's what Ashlyn's been miserable about, what Myrtle's been grumpy about, and what you've been so worried about."

"Y-you can leave if you want." Roland wasn't able to meet her gaze. "Just... Please don't do anything to Ashlyn. Sh-she doesn't deserve it. She's already had it rough enough..."

"Why would I do anything to her?"

Roland frowned. Puzzlement broke through his apprehension. "You're not mad?"

"Well, I mean..." She shrugged. "I... I wish it hadn't gone this way. And Ashlyn did play a part in that. I miss home. But... like you said, she's not the one I should be blaming, and she's trying to do better now. It's her father and... and the _Guardians_. I'm... I don't know what to say. Hearing they were the ones who wanted this..."

Roland couldn't believe what he was hearing. His anxiety had shot through the roof over either her or Harper finding out, but it was suddenly all fine. "You... You actually understand?"

"I'm not really fond of all the lying you did, but... yeah. Clearly, you were really good friends with Drevon. Harper tells me all about how he's a monster, but... he was just another normal dragon, wasn't he?"

"That he was." Roland sighed. For seconds, Roland had seen him there in the flesh, and now he was gone yet again. But at least he knew that Drevon hadn't gone through with what he was planning. The black monster had gotten to him first. It was strange to think, but he was almost thankful it had broken through and stopped him. "Now he's got this corrupt parasite pumping darkness into him like he's some kind of vessel. I thought he was dead after he told me he was gonna... well, _end it_. But he's still around."

"Things happen, I guess..." Tris managed a small smile. Roland sat down and breathed sharply through his nostrils. "Are you doing okay, Roland? I know how hard this must be on you."

"Yeah, I'm fine. Don't worry about me. I'm more worried about everyone else. All of you are taking this pretty well, I think, but I can't be sure..." He was happy Tris had been willing to listen and understand at least. Fluffy leaned down beside him, falling onto his big stomach, his head flopping on the floor next to him. Roland petted the dreadwing's head with his paw, then wiped the blood from beneath his nose again.

The lithe dragoness walked forward and seated herself in front of him. "That reminds me. I have another question."

"Shoot."

"Do you know what all that orange crystal stuff is?" Tris reached down and picked one of the leftover fragments up. They were so small now, their amber glow fading with the dark. It was only now that Roland noticed the darkness was growing; the fluid running through the egg's veins had dulled. The tendrils were black and lifeless, and the walls of the tree almost looked charred. Roland touched the Eldertree and found it was rotting. Had the egg been the thing keeping this place alive? He could only imagine the outside.

"I'm not sure. I've had it happen three times. I get knocked out by something, and then I wake up with my vision tinted blue and orange crystals everywhere."

"You summoned a giant crystal around your whole body before that egg exploded," she uttered. Roland frowned. "These fragments came from you."

He couldn't understand. He'd summoned a crystal? The fragments came from _him_? He hadn't seen any of this.

Then again, he sort of was unconscious when it happened.

"How did I summon a crystal?" Roland asked. He thought there was no easy answer to that question, but Tris came at him yet again with unexpected dialogue.

"None of this should be possible, not for _you_. But... I guess it would explain your lack of an element."

Once more, he couldn't comprehend what she was saying.

"I mean, you _do_ have an element, I should say. It's just not what you expect."

He looked at her as if she'd gone mad. Him? An element? He hadn't had one for a long time. Why would he suddenly have one now?

"You really don't understand, do you?" she asked. Her grin was growing. Roland shook his head. "Before the Night of Eternal Darkness around five hundred years ago, Spyro fought the ape leader, Gaul, in combat. The Mountain of Malefor collapsed after that, with Spyro inside. He stopped the mountain from crushing him by using a fury that summoned a giant orange crystal around him and his friends. And that's exactly what _you_ have done here, Roland, just on a smaller scale. Does it make sense yet?"

He was speechless. Tris took his silence as a no.

"Roland... You're a time dragon."

* * *

Roland waited for Harper and Myrtle to return from their morning hunting trip. He was sat staring at the Eldertree, the rot starting to spread, and he couldn't get the events of the night before out of his head. He actually had an element, and not just anything normal either. He was special. That was something he didn't like.

He'd never felt it there before. All the others had known they'd had an element all their lives; even as young kids it had been down there, patiently waiting for the point it could be used. They could feel the mana lingering inside their bodies, swirling in the potenthalus. But he hadn't felt a thing there for all his life. He'd always felt so empty. He _still did_.

He tried writing it off as an error on Tristana's part, confirming he could control time just as the purple dragons could. He denied its existence entirely. He couldn't even control it himself. It just happened on its own! But all evidence pointed to that being the case. He wasn't excited, not like Tris. He wasn't even happy.

He was confused.

Why him? Why, of all people, did the Ancestors choose him, a greedy, undeserving little drake, to control such a gift?

Why couldn't he feel it there like the others? Why couldn't he use it?

Why was he _different_?

Yet more and more questions bogged down the laden pile like storm clouds in his mind.

"Uh... Earth to Roland?"

He brought his eyes up and met Tris'. Sheepishness tugged at his features; he'd been trying to talk to her and Ashlyn before but had been caught in his labyrinth of a brain.

"S-sorry," he muttered. "What were you saying?"

"We were just talking about what we were doing last night." Tris' gaze met Ashlyn's. The ice dragoness had seemed shocked all had been revealed to the electric dragon, and she gave Roland quite a lot of her worry, but when Tris explained it was okay, she managed to calm down. Roland had apologised to her for breaking his word, but at the very least Ashlyn was willing to accept it considering he had no options in the situation.

Myrtle mentioned the feeling of earth energy around her had diminished, but she hadn't heard the news yet for she was out with Harper. They fortunately hadn't seen the slight discolouration of the tree, or the crevice smashed into it on the opposite side of their campsite. They could tell her when she got back. Harper, though... Roland wasn't sure if they could say anything to him. After the last conversation they had, the red dragon wasn't sure if they could trust Harper with that information. The cheetah already blamed the purple dragon for the passing of his son. The only reason he was set on figuring out why Fluffy was following Roland was because of that.

The way Harper linked things up in his mind was wrong. But Roland was sure the blame would pass onto himself, and then what the cheetah would do was up for debate. Harper was a generally polite and calm individual, but if he had thoughts any of these troubles were to do with Roland or Myrtle...

Roland thought that maybe he was going a little far with that one. He knew he couldn't say anything to the cheetah, though, and the others agreed with him in that notion.

When they spoke of Roland's time powers, Ashlyn was certainly shocked, but she hadn't much to add. Roland expressed his irritation over not having answers and the others didn't have much to say on that, either, other than Tris saying she was excited to learn more of it.

After the others came back, they ate their breakfast of charred piggle in silence and got a move on. Tris tried to start a conversation with him about the discovery of his powers when they were a ways behind the others, but he wasn't in the mood for it.

He was sick of questions without answers. _Totally_ sick of them. And he had a feeling they were just going to keep piling on.

He hated that more than anything in the world.


	23. Monsters in the Dark

Monsters in the Dark

Everybody was silent. Roland had spoken to Myrtle previously about the events that had transpired inside the Eldertree – she'd been obviously shocked to hear about Drevon – but now that the conversation had withered away, Roland didn't utter another word.

Tris had been excited by the prospect of him having his very own unique element, but she chose to leave him to his thoughts. Ashlyn could tell he was contemplating recent circumstances and knew it was best if she left him to his own devices. Myrtle had tried to say a few things to lighten the mood between them all, though she was very clearly too immersed within the depths of her own mind to keep it going. Harper probably knew something was up, but he didn't speak his mind. He probably preferred the quiet while they travelled anyway.

Roland couldn't believe what he'd seen. Truly, he'd thought Drevon had gone and done it, but that couldn't be any more false. He was still alive, still kicking, only with his mind once again terrorised by the shadowy beast brewing inside.

Maybe if he could find him again he could convince him out of the state, just like he had before. Roland was sure he could do it again. Drevon would listen to his best friend. He wouldn't hurt his best friend...

Roland considered it for a moment. He wasn't so sure when he thought about it. Drevon didn't even listen to him in the Eldertree, like he couldn't hear him. Maybe the screaming wind sealed the sound of the red dragon's cries. Perhaps the darkness purged the voice from his mind. Only Drevon knew, and Roland didn't think he would be getting an answer.

But Roland knew he had to try. He had to find Drevon again. He needed to stop the purple dragon before more damage was done. The only question was where in the Dragon Realms would he even find him? Or, worse yet, where in the _world_? Where would Drevon go next?

For now, all Roland could do was follow his friends and pray to the Ancestors above that he would be able to find Drevon along the way and cure him of his rotten disease. He didn't know how he would do that... but he would. He _would_ , if it was the very last thing he did. Drevon needed him.

"Uh... You're falling behind a little bit, Roland."

He lifted his eyes to the face of Ashlyn. The others were more than ten paces away and his thoughts were slowing him down. Those eyes of hers studied him with that same aura of concern they always did.

"Well, you are, too." He managed a little smirk.

"I slowed down because I noticed you were." She joined him at his side. "You need to keep up with the others. I do understand, though." She lowered her voice to a murmur. "Things are... really weird right now. Now Tris knows and there's all these eggs and apparently you can summon _time crystals_ or something like that... and Drevon's back, too."

He sped the pace up. Fluffy was right behind him watching his back, so he was sure he wasn't in a great deal of danger, but keeping to the group was far safer than lingering behind like he and his dreadwing had been.

"I won't ask what's wrong," she continued. "Y-you don't like it when I ask. But it's pretty easy to tell what you're thinking about. I am here to listen if you want to talk..."

"Don't worry about me. I'm feeling fine," he said. "I'm just thinking about what's coming next. About what I saw. Drevon, that egg... everything. I'm confused as to what's going on and I'm trying to figure it out. I don't have answers and that annoys me."

"Yeah, I know exactly how you feel." Ashlyn shrugged. "Unfortunately, I don't think we'll be getting many answers until we can get Drevon back..."

"You're gonna help me?" He frowned. Sure, she felt as though she had a debt to repay to him, but he fully expected her to stop at Warfang once they got there. Roland wasn't even sure if the end of his journey around the Dragon Realms would come to a close there anymore. He needed to find the purple dragon. Life as he knew it could come to an abrupt end with the dark parasite running rampant.

Maybe that was being too dramatic. But after what he'd witnessed in Firemore – the destruction, the seared bodies – he couldn't take any chances. If what Harper said about those _eaters_ was true, and Drevon had something to do with them, like it'd seemed...

"I need to help you," Ashlyn answered. "That's what you want to do, right? You want to get Drevon back?"

"Of course, I just... don't really think I'm gonna be able to stop in Warfang now. I'm gonna have to keep going." He cocked his head. "I don't expect you to follow me after that. You can stay in Warfang. That's what you want, right?"

"What kind of person would I be if I _did_ stay?" she asked. Roland opened his maw, but she was too quick to the punch. "You've been an amazing friend. Somehow, we've known each other for less than a month and you're so nice to me, in spite of everything that's happened. The least I can do is help you out by finding him and the answers to all of our questions."

"You really don't have to. It's all good." Roland wanted to deny he'd done anything truly amazing. He'd just been himself. That was all. But Ashlyn wouldn't have any of it.

"No, I do. If you can help me like you have, I should do the same for you." A rare glint of confidence shimmered in her eyes. "I'm with you, Roland."

He wasn't certain how to respond. For her, though, it seemed the smile tugging at his mouth was enough.

"W-well, I..." He stroked his grubby frills. Despite the winter chill and his scarf doing barely anything to prevent his shivers, he felt a warmth fill his body. "Heh. Thanks, I guess."

"Th-there's no need for thank yous!" She grinned. "Anyway, I am a little curious about this time stuff. I-I mean, Tris _is_ the master and she could probably give you better answers than me, but what have you got on your mind?"

"So many things..." He'd do anything for a few answers right now. "I dunno how you can help. Mostly I've just been wondering why I can summon orange crystals out of thin air. Why do I have this power?"

"Other than saying it's some amazing coincidence and you're one of a kind, I don't know," she responded. He knew her answer wouldn't provide him with knowledge beyond his own, but he was disappointed to hear it anyway.

"Oh well..." He reached into the front pocket of his satchel to find the small package of honey-glazed jerky he'd been keeping since he'd robbed that avaricious mole behind the stand in Midrun. He pulled a piece out for Ashlyn. "Jerky?"

"I totally forgot you even had that..." She giggled and helped herself to it.

"We're stopping!" Harper called before Roland could shove a piece into his mouth. He popped the stolen food away and headed over.

They all came to a halt beneath a large mushroom. The cheetah cleaned his broadsword of golden tree sap and spider silk hanging in strands from the tip. Roland had noticed the variety of arachnids in this part of the forest, some with their backs painted red like they constantly bled, others with legs twice as long and thin as their button-like bodies. It was an arachnophobe's worst nightmare in here, but he found them entertaining to watch, leaping about the trees weaving homes and traps. He was fascinated, though he tried not to get close. Those things could probably kill him with a single bite. No spirit gem could heal venom.

They stayed the night next to the gravel path and got a move on after breakfast in the morning. This time their journey wasn't as silent; the unusual quiet from Myrtle had vanished in favour of another of her spooky tales, this time about _blood spiders_ , inspired by the arachnids he'd seen _._ Roland pressed the pad of his paw against his forehead. He had no doubt she was doing this ironically now for the sole reason of irritating them all. But... he was glad to hear conversation amongst them once more. Tris finally admitted how silly Myrtle's stories were, and Roland could hear the blatant embarrassment in Myrtle's stuttered replies over the electric dragon's laughter.

He was still shocked Tris had understood everything. She acted as though she hadn't listened to him at all last night. Had she that same understanding as he, or was she hiding the real truth from him for his sake? He wanted to accept the former. Maybe she saw where Ashlyn was coming from, seen how sorry the ice dragoness was for the things she'd played a part in. She had told him she'd noticed how miserable Ashlyn was...

He thought about it over the course of the next night, but couldn't find a good answer. He noticed something about Harper's demeanour, however. Something about him wasn't quite right; Roland wasn't sure if he usually hid his paws in his pockets and walked in a slouch. He worried for a moment that Tris might've let something slip, but her behaviour was totally normal. He assumed it was something else, then.

Maybe he'd started taking notice of everybody else and their behaviour. The veil of secrecy upon them all was easy to perceive. Harper already knew something was going on, that Roland was sure of. Perhaps he didn't enjoy having no answers to his questions, either.

Roland wanted to tell him and fix that... but he couldn't. Truthfully, he was scared of what the cheetah could do and probably would do if he knew. Nobody had spoken to him much since the red dragon had talked to Tris about the truth of the city they'd once held dear. Maybe the others felt the same way.

He couldn't be sure, though. Roland decided to shake his head and press on. He could focus on getting out of the Everlost Forest first before any of this.

* * *

This was their last night in the forest – at least, that was what Harper told them all. By the middle of the day tomorrow, they'd be nearing the outskirts. Roland pictured the sun finally breaking through the canopy and being able to fly again. That was probably the first thing he would do as soon as he got out. He'd been missing his wings. It was far too dangerous in the dark, with stray branches and creatures probably awaiting prey above.

Harper set their camp up in silence a short walk away from a huge ravine rushing with water, the Edwin in all its pride. Roland had seen it a few times before, in thin streams and rivers flowing and winding across from the path, but that was where the bulk of the water remained; those had only been the great chasm's veins. Falling in would be certain death, if not from drowning, then from smashing your skull on the pointed rocks protruding from the rapids. Roland made a clear note in his head to not go near it, just in case.

The red dragon shivered. The unrelenting chill was picking up; winter had finally revealed its full force. Everybody else could sleep this night. They either had a gut topped with warming mana or a hide of thick fur, and the fire added to that. Not him, though. Even being nestled into Fluffy's wing, camped around the fire, wasn't enough for Roland. He wished he, too, could feel that mana.

Why couldn't he? Tris said he had an element. Why would this work differently? Why couldn't he feel the flow of mana down there at all? He had an ability. An ability he couldn't control, sure, but he had one!

What made him so unique? He loathed that question – he hated feeling different. But there was no changing it now. There was nothing he could do about being special. It was ingrained into his very being.

The worst part was always having nobody to answer him. If the Ancestors could find a way to respond...

Like tiny fangs, the cold bit at his scales, and he leaned into Fluffy. The dreadwing's throat vibrated with a low, tender sound. Tufts of hair brushed against Roland's nostrils and he was reminded of what Fluffy reeked of. He couldn't describe the stink.

Worse yet, Roland probably smelt just as bad being this close to the dreadwing all the time. How did the others even deal with him and his dreadwing? Ashlyn was the cleanest of them all and he never saw anything like disgust twitch on her expression. It definitely wasn't a nice smell.

Maybe they were all used to it, too. Or maybe they were trying to be polite...

He felt he'd be doing them and himself a huge favour if he washed up a little. Fluffy could use it as well. A shallow stream lined with luminous mushrooms wound around their clearing and towards the expansive chasm a couple minutes away, and a small pool of water was hidden behind the trees not far from him. He could head out and bathe right now while everybody was asleep, the only exception being Tris, who was behind the thick tree ahead of him keeping watch for them all. He assumed she hadn't moved away from her post.

He only needed a few spirit gems to warm that water up, which he had in his satchel... and that soap Harper used. The cheetah was on the ground a few paces from him, baggy eyes closed, his mouth parted; usually Harper was alert, even in his rest, so much so to the point Roland thought he didn't even rest sometimes. But exhaustion had finally clubbed him over the head, and he was truly out of it. Without a second thought, he put a claw to his mouth to keep the dreadwing quiet – thankfully, Fluffy knew the gesture and kept his muzzle zipped when Roland climbed out of his grasp.

It wasn't hard to find and Roland's experience in the art of thievery paid off. He pulled a small glass bottle from a buckled pouch on the front of the rucksack. A tube ran down the centre of the transparent container, connected to a pump at the top that would dispense the blue gelatinous substance contained within. The small writing wrapped around the bottle spoke of 'amazing fur quality,' but he was sure it would work perfectly on scales, too.

Maybe he should've asked if he could borrow it from Harper. He felt a bit weird stealing this, but everybody would appreciate it in the end. Harper would never know it'd ever been used after he slipped it back into his rucksack.

He hesitated before leaving. Harper hadn't been in a good mood. What if he found out? What if his anger bubbled over and hit the red dragon with the force of a tsunami? What if...

No, he was worrying too much. Harper wasn't _that_ aggressive. Maybe he'd even appreciate the better hygiene.

With that, Roland crouched low in the grass and sneaked away, issuing Fluffy over to the stream when he was sure nobody had been stirred from their slumber.

Concealed by a thick layer of trees was this vein of the Edwin. Radiant fungi grew in muddied dirt that snaked along the edge of a natural bowl in the river. Moss-like plants grew from the bottom and made the water's surface ripple. Roland ducked beneath a tangled vine and brought Fluffy closer. The dreadwing's head was cocked at nearly a ninety-degree angle. Roland chuckled.

"I thought it was time I led you somewhere instead," he said. "To a bath. We both really need one."

Roland thrust his paw into his satchel again and withdrew a few gemstones, apparently the only ones he had left. Confused, he dug further through its contents and the only item left was his pocket watch. Hadn't he any more? Ashlyn had taken quite the hefty amount from that stall in Midrun. He hadn't used a single one yet. He knew he wasn't absorbing them through the satchel. Any dragon would've felt that.

There was only one explanation. Somebody had been taking them and he hadn't been able to feel the weight reducing – spirit gems weren't heavy after all. He had a fair idea of who the culprit was. Myrtle, of course, had been snatching gemstones right from under his nose, probably while he'd been asleep.

He shook his head in worry. He hadn't thought about or took note of the crystallisation in her wings for a while, and stealing all his red gemstones probably wasn't doing her any favours. He'd have to talk to her about it.

At the same time, he didn't want to make her upset, though. She was very touchy about the subject, and that had been proven back in Firemore when he'd discovered she was the thief taking the gems from their vault. She was aware of the things that could happen to her if she kept on going, but she couldn't force herself to stop. It was too difficult for her.

But they needed those spirit gems. Everyone else had crystals on them in case of emergency – as long as Myrtle hadn't been stealing from them, too – but they couldn't be wasting valuable resources on her addiction, especially ones that could be the difference between life and death if their situation got particularly ugly.

For now, however, he had a bath to take. He forwent the spirit gems and dropped them into his satchel. It would be a waste to use them on this water anyway. They couldn't heat the Edwin on their own.

It wasn't as freezing as he thought it would be, thankfully. Something was heating the water, and he assumed it was those tiny hollow rocks in the bottom pushing hot air up from underground. It was so relaxing, in fact, that he totally lost track of time.

he'd cleaned himself up and given Fluffy a good scrub (the dreadwing didn't complain when it came to what was practically a massage), he let himself loosen up and adjusted his position so his back was to the smooth rock on the pond's walls. Those stressed bones slackened and he felt those knots in his muscles unfurl. He spread his wingspan and hovered on the bowl's surface.

He hadn't had a chance to relax like this for so long now. Even sleep made him tense. This, though... He'd always wanted to return to this. And the world let him have it. The cold calmed for but a moment to give him time to unwind. The breeze, crisp and invigorating, wafted beneath his wings and over his face. He expelled a breath, relaxed by groups of chirping insects and the unpronounced bubble of the stream as it swam towards the gaping ravine ahead.

The best part was that the stench had vanished. He leaned his head back and allowed the water to meditate his mind and soul. Even Fluffy didn't make a sound, like he'd been needing this, too.

Roland's reverie was broken when the grass rustled and something punched the water with a low splash. He froze for a moment, thinking somebody had suddenly joined him in the water, but there was nobody to be seen. He ducked his head into the rippling pond and searched for the source of the disturbance.

He brushed the underwater forest away and wrapped his paws around something thin and metallic. Fluffy stared at him in curiosity. Befuddlement hit him in an instant.

It was Tristana's mechanism, the unfinished replica of a dragon's paw. It must've fallen off the bank. She'd probably left it there when she'd bathed earlier. He decided this find marked the end of his bath. He couldn't spend too long out here and risk Harper waking up anyhow.

He grabbed the edge of the pool and lifted his head over the bank, but the sight in the corner of his eyes stopped him. Tracks in the mud, two pairs of hasty dragon paws racing into the darkness. At first he was confused. And then he started to agonise over the problem.

Tris' mechanism out here, and paw tracks leading directly into the gloom of the Everlost Forest? Had she... run into the dark? But why in the name of the Ancestors would she do that? That was suicide!

No, this had to be some sort of mistake. She was still watching over the others, wasn't she? All signs pointed to her running away, but she would never do something so unreasonable. Right?

He desperately needed to check. She was confident in her own abilities, and Roland didn't doubt them at all, but the forest was deadly. She couldn't have done it...

"We're going now, Fluffy." Roland patted the dreadwing's neck. Fluffy leaped out of the water and awaited his master. The red dragon shoved the bottle of soap and the contraption into his satchel and hurried back to their encampment.

Quickly and quietly, just in case he was mistaken and Tris hadn't blindly rushed off into the black, he slipped the soap back into Harper's rucksack and slithered past Ashlyn and Myrtle to the tree Tris had been sitting behind. He poked his head around the corner.

She wasn't there. Of course she wasn't there.

He scanned the glowing clearing with fretful eyes, but there was no sign of her. She... She wouldn't have gone anywhere. She wasn't that rash. Sure, maybe she was excitable, but she had a fucking _brain_...

Roland was wasting time. He knew she'd done it. He didn't know why she had, but she'd actually _done it_. At this point, with all the time he'd spent in the pool, she could already be lost in those woods, or worse.

"Guys, wake up!" he called. He needed to know if they knew of her location. He first noticed Harper, whose eyes shot open. The cheetah leaped to his feet and raised his blade.

"What is it!?" the cheetah's voice came, quick and resolute.

The others rose swiftly after him, both sharing a look of total confusion over their interrupted slumber.

"Have any of you seen Tris?" Roland wiped a paw over his forehead, sweat beading his brow.

Harper frowned and his grip tightened around his broadsword. "No? She was keeping watch for us right there. Did she go for another bath?"

Myrtle and Ashlyn both answered no in unison. Roland's fears were all but confirmed then.

"I found her paw replica near the pool." He drew it out of his satchel. "And... And I saw what I think is her tracks in the mud. I-it looked like she was headed right into the darkness..."

" _What_!?" Harper yelled. The words shocked him to the very core. "She did _what_!?"

"I'm telling the truth!" Roland replied, motioning them over with his wing. He'd already started running back to the pool. Fluffy rushed along without any orders. "C'mon!"

Harper struck his lantern alight as soon as they got there, bent down and found the tracks. He looked up from the path the paws in the mud created, where they faded into the black. Myrtle looked at Roland, and Roland looked at Ashlyn. There was no questioning what they would have to do.

"We're going in," Harper uttered. "Keep close to me, close to the firelight. We'll move as swiftly as we can."

Harper's breath came shakily.

"Ancestors, tell me she's safe..."

* * *

The tracks ended quickly. They wound around the trees and cut a corner, but the mud dispersed in time. They'd been searching for so long now with no sign of the dragoness.

Somehow, Harper knew the path kept going, though. His eyes fell on the trees and the floor, signs where there had been movement. Indistinct marks where claws had scratched the bark, twigs and leaves snapped and broken where they'd been stepped on. They were all signs something had been there, and it was most likely Tristana. Roland actively started looking for them

There were places where the trees had been scorched, the most obvious sign Tris had been around. She'd been trying to attack something, as though hunting it. But what?

It didn't matter. She was out there somewhere, in horrible danger. The lights were sparse now; the only thing carrying Roland forward was the quivering firelight of Harper's lantern and the glowing wisps of earthen energy Myrtle summoned to assist.

Nobody spoke, except for occasionally pointing out the marks. Roland started taking notice of the eyes staring at him, jagged and angered by their presence, glowing whites and yellows and blues. He wasn't supposed to be here. They would've already snatched him up if it weren't for the lantern.

Tris was lucky to get even this far by herself. Further and further she'd gone, and had managed to make it past the monsters. The clues never seemed to end, to the point where Roland wondered if the signs were really of her doing. For long minutes, he was worried they weren't hers and they were following a false trail.

He was only looking for those scorch marks now. And every once in a while, there came another one that led them deeper and deeper through the maze of timber and vine.

They'd been following for so long now that Roland believed she'd already been lost to the monsters. All hope vanished. He and his group could get back – they only needed to follow the trail – but not her. Not by herself. She would've already been snatched by the creatures.

Harper's stubbornness was the only thing pushing the cheetah forward. Her fate was certain, but he pressed on anyway. He needed to see her in the flesh. He had to make sure.

But even though Roland himself had lost hope for her, the burnt wood led them onward. And then it started to grow more frequent. Multiple trees had been struck with her lightning in the same area. She'd grown impatient, clumsy, or desperate, one of the three, to kill whatever it was that her focus and confidence had set her on.

Then he started seeing trees snapped in two, as if they were mere thread. There was no other possible conclusion. A powerful monster had gotten her. That was why her shots became more frantic. Something had braved the light of her ball of electricity and threatened her with brute strength.

Harper's pace quickened. He fully expected them to keep up with him. Roland's breath came in heavy gasps. He didn't have the stamina for this. But he had to keep going. Not only for Tris, but for the fact he would be swallowed by the darkness if he didn't.

Everybody struggled as much as him. They had to do it, though. They needed to find her. Whether she was dead or not, they had to. She might've been his newest friend, but he wasn't going to leave her fate unknown. He'd lost hope in the chance she was alive already, though that tiny, negligible chance still remained. They needed to know.

When he thought the trail would end, it kept on going. He could smell the ash in the air. She'd been here recently. Harper once again sped up, slashing through the vines at a rapid pace. Roland decided to lift into the air and move with his wings. He was too slow on the ground to keep up with the cheetah. The other dragons followed suit.

Over their low murmurs and the sounds of Harper's boots on the forest floor, there was another sound. A cry, a desperate scream. Roland could barely hear it over the wind in his ears, but there was no mistaking what was said.

"Help! _Please_!"

"Tristana!" Harper yelled back. He dashed off quicker than the dragons could fly through the forest. The light vanished with him, and Roland, scared for his life, flew as fast as his wings could carry him after it.

There were footsteps. Heavy thudding, just like he'd heard in his first few days in the forest. Fluffy's calm was shattered in an instant, and the dreadwing screamed out.

Roland soared into a new clearing where the mushrooms didn't grow and darkness reigned over all. Harper skidded to a stop and the other dragons joined him in the lantern's light. They could see Tris cornered against a wall, her face scratched and her body bruised. She didn't seem to be capable of moving her legs.

And slowly meandering towards her, a huge club-like arm raised, was the hulking, earthen form of a troll. It saw the light and turned its mossy head. Those beady red eyes noticed the newcomers. Its gaping maw widened and it bellowed in rage.

Harper nearly dropped his sword at the sight. Roland shook with dread and terror, and Fluffy cowered behind him. Myrtle cursed and Ashlyn almost seemed to scream. The troll forgot Tristana existed and charged at them all with no warning, arms raised.

The ground shuddered with the violent impact and Roland only just managed to step aside. He rolled across the ground, lost track of his companions, and was stopped by the shattered hunk of a tree. Roland pushed himself to his feet, but felt the dreadwing's back legs wrap around his body and pull him into the air.

"Fluffy!" Roland screamed at the dreadwing. "What are you–"

The Dragon Realms shook with the troll's might as it leaped and slammed into the ground where the red dragon had been. Roland shut his mouth and focused on clambering up the dreadwing's stomach and onto his back.

The world swam with elemental power; Myrtle blasted the troll with her earth energy, Ashlyn shot icicles into its stout neck, and Harper pulled the hammer on his pistol and fired rounds in quick succession. The troll didn't seem distracted by them at all; it didn't care for the lights now. It was focused on Roland, or, more realistically, the dreadwing that'd screamed at it days before.

Roland grasped the hair of his beast and let him do the flying. The troll had already been hit by Tris' electricity, its mossy hair and body fastened from roots blackened with soot. It threw a furious rage over its pain and swung wildly from below at the dreadwing that'd caused such fear in it before.

Fluffy clutched onto a tree and Roland hung on with all the strength his meek form could muster. The dreadwing's powerful screech tore through the air and echoed across the clearing. The troll took a hasty step back and groaned in pain, its mind throbbing. It swung a frenzied arm forward. The tree Fluffy had perched on shattered and the dreadwing took off only moments before he could be smacked by the troll's second club of rock.

The troll hunkered down and boomed in infuriation, deciding to thunder towards Roland's group of companions. It put an arm over its eyes and screamed, obstructing the bullets, the magic, and the light. It threw its arms up and brought them down upon his friends. Roland held his breath as they managed to roll out of the way. The red dragon shook with fear.

Fluffy was flying in circles around the clearing. The red dragon looked down, and without a second thought, gripped the hairs more tightly and pulled them in the direction of the troll. It took no further instruction; the dreadwing obeyed his commands and charged at the troll. Roland narrowed his eyes, the wind stinging them.

"Scream, Fluffy!" he shouted, and the dreadwing did as told, blasting the monster with yet another wave of fear. The troll's resolve was once again shattered for a moment; it looked to try and clutch its skull, but only ended up falling on its back as it did so. It struggled to get back to its feet, and Harper took the opportunity when it came.

The old cheetah slammed the blade of his broadsword into the knitted roots of the troll's stomach, and leaped away before it could counterattack. The troll rumbled in agony; a dark, viscous liquid spurted from its intestines. The troll, with its belly fatally slashed, rolled to its feet and cried in pain before rushing away into the darkness, followed by Myrtle and Ashlyn's magic. The trees crumbled in its wake. It disappeared, and the deafening noise of its feet faded with time.

Fluffy landed with a heavy thump. Roland got off, panting for air, and rushed over to his friends. Harper was covered in the troll's blood, and Myrtle and Ashlyn were weary from battle, but they were otherwise fine. They all looked over at Tris, who was bleeding and whimpering on the ground against a stone wall. The five of them rushed over to check on her.

Roland was totally shocked to see her alive, but she wasn't doing well at all. Upon closer inspection, she was covered in scrapes and bruises, her hind legs were broken, and the wall behind her head was stained with her blood. He cringed at the sight of her, imagining himself in that same position, almost like the time back in Firemore. Her eyes swam with tears. She looked barely able to tell Roland and his friends were there for her.

"Spirit gems _now_ ," the cheetah commanded, kneeling and setting the lantern down beside her. Ashlyn eagerly followed and ripped them out of her satchel. Harper snatched them from her outstretched paw and crushed them on the ground next to the yellow dragoness. Fragments sprung off the ground and shot into her more serious wounds, especially the place her skull was bleeding. Myrtle grabbed Tristana's satchel and pulled a few more gems from its depths and Harper took them as swiftly as he had before.

The bleeding stopped, but she still looked out of it. Harper placed his paws on her shoulders to get her attention. She shuddered and whimpered at the touch. Guiltily, he withdrew them.

"Are you alright, Tristana?" the cheetah muttered. Tris shook her head. She was holding her breath, trying not to cry out in pain. "Where does it hurt?"

"A-all over..." she whispered. "I-it hurts... s-so much..."

And that was with spirit gems. They couldn't give her any more, unfortunately. The side effects of overuse could end up being worse than her current injuries.

"Can you stand?" Harper asked.

She put a shaky paw to the ground. Even the tiniest push made her wince, but she managed it. The spirit gems had healed her back paws significantly, but there was still a great deal of pain there. "I... I think so."

Myrtle, who stood over her, bent down, as did Ashlyn. The anxiety was clear in both of their eyes. The green dragoness offered a paw. "I can help ya back. Do you need my wing?"

"Mine, too?" Ashlyn added. Tris looked down at herself and, knowing it was going to be far too difficult on her own, nodded her head. Myrtle and Ashlyn exchanged glances, and for once they seemed to agree on something. Tris must've made a bit of an impression on them both. Despite everything that'd happened, Roland felt a little happiness flow into his system.

He was quivering with adrenaline and fear, but he could at least be happy Tris was bringing them a little closer.

He still desired an answer to why she'd run off. It could wait for now, though. Tris needed rest more than anything. He'd get his answer in due time.

He was glad they'd found her alive. He felt so bad for doubting she was.


	24. Crack of Thunder

Crack of Thunder

Apart from the low sputtering flame, it was dead quiet. Nobody uttered a word. Nobody spoke of the battle they'd fought, the answers they wanted.

Harper placed yet another branch atop the campfire, then returned to his spot next to it. Roland, shivering and exhausted, lay on his side, gazing through the crackling flames at Tris on the other side. She rested peacefully in spite of the stinging cuts, the throbbing muscles, and the pounding headache she'd spoken of. The red dragon desired answers to her bizarre display of recklessness, but if he was being honest, he didn't want to be the one to ask.

She wasn't well, and not just physically. Her mental anguish was evident. She'd been on the verge of bursting into sobs on the way back to the path through the Everlost Forest. Before she'd dozed off, she'd hung her head and hadn't uttered a word since the troll had scarpered and they'd gotten her back. She knew she'd done something horribly wrong and put herself in great danger. If Roland had found her tracks only seconds after he had, she wouldn't have been resting on the opposite side of the campfire right now.

He was glad it hadn't come to that. To think he could've been quicker, though, that he'd spent so long bathing without even knowing she'd run off... He was able to admit that the tracks were barely visible in the low light in the first place, but her injuries could've been prevented.

Of course, she was still the one who ran off, and why that had been remained to be seen.

Roland breathed out and looked to the canopy above. He wanted to see the stars again. And he would shortly. He wondered if after that egg had hatched another streak would dash through the sky and stroke the everlasting black with green. He wouldn't see it here, definitely not. First a white one, and then blue, and now probably green...

He hadn't seen an egg for the first one. It must've hatched without him. Those eggs always exploded as soon as he got too close. Something to do with that time magic he had probably. It wasn't out of the question that they could hatch by themselves, though, without interference. How he interfered was unknown to him. He didn't feel any mana at all.

When had the egg been created? Drevon had something to do with them, that he was certain of. Was Drevon the one bringing them around? He wasn't sure how it worked, but that felt likely. Just when had Drevon summoned the first one, though?

The only time he could think of was when the purple dragon went out for that flight across the sea, all the stress from Seth's actions churning in his mind. Maybe he'd snapped out there, too, when nobody was around. The darkness must've plagued him. It was probably what was leading him around to find the places for these eggs, too.

Harper's words about the five eaters... Were these what he spoke of, those monstrous beasts that siphoned the elements and brought with them utter destruction?

It was only a silly fairy tale. Magic made anything seem possible, but not this. Then again, the Destroyer had existed once, a colossal beast summoned by the late Dark Master that roamed across the Dragon Realms to complete the Ring of Fire. It tore the world apart, only for the planet to be sealed back together by Spyro. He guessed nothing was impossible. Only improbable.

He hoped that wasn't the case, that all life would be devoured by a plague ushered in by these wyverns. Something about all this, however, felt strangely likely. He'd _seen_ wyverns in their eggs. And all of them looked as if they were designed after an element. White, blue, and green. Wind, ice, and earth respectively. Would there be one to play the role of fire and another for electricity as well?

This growing catastrophe was why Roland knew he had to find Drevon and break his mind free of the parasite before it was too late. He was wasting time here, waiting for a friend to awaken from her slumber. But he wouldn't leave her. He knew that he grew too close to people too quickly, but he cared about what was happening to her. He had a bit of an affinity for people struggling through things in their lives. It was his natural will to always try his best to be helpful at work there.

Trying to rush after Drevon wouldn't result in success anyhow. The purple dragon was much faster than him, and Roland had no idea where he was going next. He needed clues first, rumours from the denizens of the Dragon Realms, recent sightings of the dragon. For all Roland knew, he could be heading in the wrong direction now.

Roland detested that. Worse than having no answers was feeling as though he was getting further and further away from them. He rolled onto his other side, facing away from the campfire, and groaned quietly to himself.

Fluffy stared down at him, curious yellow eyes that always wondered how he was feeling. Dreadwings seemed highly in tune with the emotions of others. Roland wondered if Fluffy knew what he was thinking. Probably not, though. He could probably only sense the disturbance, not what it was exactly. He just wished he could talk properly to Fluffy and gain the response he so hopelessly craved.

Roland rolled to his feet and stretched his muscles. He needed to go somewhere to calm himself. This lack of answers angered him, and he didn't want to be around the others in such a mood.

"Where are you off to?" Harper peered up at him. Roland sighed.

"I'm just getting a drink. Give me a second."

Harper shifted his attention back to Tris and left him alone. Roland paced off, Fluffy eagerly following behind.

The chill curled and clawed around his scales when he left the campfire's warm grasp, and he was tempted for a second to turn around. He needed a moment to himself, though. Regarding the cold, however, Roland wondered if he would see snow when they came out the other side. He'd never seen any in real life before. He'd always wanted to partake in a snowball fight. That sounded like a lot of fun...

Ah, silly, mindless thoughts. He wished he could've had more, wished he wasn't so fixated on the problems he was facing and the stress gathering in his mind. That snowball fight would get his brain off things. Maybe when they were out of the forest, he could peg a ball of it at Myrtle. Her reaction would be priceless. A thin, lanky dragon trying to take on somebody with probably three times the muscle mass than them. He smirked at the thought, even at getting totally thrashed by his friend.

Roland stopped in front of the stream he'd bathed in earlier. Fluffy fell onto his stomach beside the red dragon. Roland bent down, propped up his front paw and cupped his chin. He looked at the large, lustrous fungi situated along the edge of the Edwin's artery, and tapped one idly with his other paw. It lost its lustre and dimmed to a dark grey. He puzzled about why that happened again, over the explanation given to him. What did the forest find familiar about the critters and monsters of this forest in particular? It was probably something to do with different skin or hairs, if he had to take a guess.

But that was what he hated. Guessing. He wanted to _know_. These guessing games weren't getting him anywhere.

Roland studied his rippling reflection and growled. He whacked the surface of the water and turned away. A quizzical Fluffy leaned down and peered into Roland's eyes.

Roland grumbled and averted his gaze. "You're just another one of my questions. Just another thing stressing me out..."

Roland hated the words as soon as they left his mouth. He expected the dreadwing to grow mad, but it seemed as though he was able to comprehend the dragon's plight.

"Y-you aren't bad by any means," Roland added. "I just wish you could talk to me. I really, _really_ do. I wouldn't be feeling tired then... I'm just so tired of everything, Fluffy. I don't want to feel like this around the others. They'd get sick of me if I acted like this around them."

Fluffy rubbed his face against Roland's cheek. It forced a tiny smile out of him.

"You're the ugliest, scariest thing I've ever seen, but you're also absolutely adorable." He chuckled. And after those died away, he exhaled. "You've been really good to me. It's good to know you care, Fluffy. And I bet you wish you could talk to me as well."

The dreadwing closed his eyes and relaxed his hairy body. He seemed content with that response.

Roland shrugged. "Honestly, it's almost as if you've gotten smarter as we've travelled together. Back when we met at the spring, you only responded to key words. Now you seem to listen to every word I say. You're a very strange dog... but you're a good dog nonetheless. I care about you, too."

Just like Fluffy, Roland rubbed his head against his oversized dog, careful not to prod his face with his horns. Fluffy adored the gesture.

"You know I'd never get sick of you, right, Roly?"

He whipped his head around to find Myrtle standing right behind him. Obviously she'd followed him and been listening the entire time. That was exactly like her to be around wanting to cheer people up. His troubles back at camp would've been easy to detect. He wasn't good at hiding them, he knew. He should've been better at it.

"Eavesdropping, Myrtle... That's rude." He laughed shortly. Myrtle sat on his other side.

"Fair's fair. You listened to me back at the Eldertree."

She had a point. Just this time, then. It was okay. But she really didn't need to know any of this stuff, about how he was feeling. He'd get through it. He'd just stomach all his stress and solve all the questions he had later. He'd find those answers. A bit of optimism went a long way.

Myrtle frowned, sniffing the air. "Is it just me... or do you smell better? Your big, ugly dog does, too."

"I had a bath before we ran after Tris," he said. "I thought you might all be sick of the stink, so I... Well, I kinda stole Harper's soap."

"Wow, petty thievery." She snorted. "I expected better from you, Roland. You should be _ashamed_."

"My guilt is immeasurable."

"Okay, okay, whatever. Back to what I said before, do you really think I'd ever get sick of you?"

Roland shrugged. "I mean, that's up to you. I'm annoying sometimes, I guess."

"Yeah, especially when you're mopin' around, all sad-like." The tip of her wing brushed along his back. "You know you can talk, right? You don't have to sit in silence. I will listen to you and I'll try my bloody best to help out."

"Eh, my problems aren't _that_ bad. Don't worry about me, Myrtle. It's not worth worrying about." They really weren't, not to him. They weren't worth the time of the others. What could they do to help anyway? They had the exact same questions as him.

"Me, personally? I think it's worth it. It's worth worryin' about because I fuckin' care about how you're feelin'."

"Yeah, but it's not a big deal," he argued. "I'm just feeling a little stressed out."

"Eh... I guess we're all a bit stressed," she replied. She glanced behind her quickly to make sure nobody was listening in on their conversation. "I'm super worried about Drevon, especially... If I knew where he was, I'd drop all my plans and head straight there to find him. And I'm guessin' you feel the same way, too."

He nodded. "Yup. Ashlyn feels that way as well."

"What would she have to gain from coming with us?" Myrtle questioned. "Why would she want to follow you? I thought once we got to Warfang, that was where she would stop."

He didn't want the ice dragoness to feel that way about him, as though her only option was to help him, but his attempts to veer her off that path were fruitless. "She feels like she owes me a debt after everything that's happened. She's welcome to help, but she shouldn't feel forced to. I wouldn't force her to. That's not right. Especially when the stakes are so high..."

"I dunno about you, Roland, but... I don't think showing Drevon the murderer of his little sister is a good idea."

Oh, definitely not. Drevon wouldn't take well to that at all, not in his current state. That emotional agony was where the thread holding Drevon together snapped. "I agree. I guess if she does want to follow me, though, she's just gonna have to stay out of sight. Knowing her, she can. Once I can get Drevon to calm down again, we can... talk things out a bit."

"Do you really expect things to be that easy?" Once again, she was right. "I'm sorry, all that just sounds a little optimistic to me..."

"...Yeah." But optimism was his middle name. It was better than expecting everything to go poorly. He would find his answers. He would find Drevon. He was just sick of not being able to grasp at them right now. "But... if I did it once, I can do it again. He'd listen to me. He... He wouldn't wanna hurt me. I just need to get him in a place where it's easy to listen to me. He couldn't hear me back in Firemore or inside the Eldertree..."

"I... I guess we'll see what happens, then. You do have the best shot at gettin' him back. I trust you, Roland. We just need to find him first."

"Yeah, which is the hard part." Roland returned his gaze to the reflection. Back at square one again. "He could be _anywhere_ right now. He might not even be in the Dragon Realms."

He had to hope fortune would be in his favour again, though. That was all he could do. Rely on hope.

"All we can do is keep goin'," Myrtle uttered. "Stick together. Hope we can find him. In fact, I think he may still be in the Dragon Realms."

"What makes you think that?" Roland asked.

Myrtle itched at her chin. "Well, all those eggs you've been seeing... They've all been here, in the Dragon Realms. This place is known as the _magic hub_ of the world, because of our high population of dragons above everythin', and those wyverns are supposedly connected to the elements. Wouldn't be too far-fetched to say those other eggs are somewhere in the Dragon Realms, too. Which... actually gives me an idea."

Roland cocked his head. That growing, confident smile on her face made his heart flutter with anticipation.

"It's gonna be hard to find a dragon on the run. But those eggs have to come from _something._ I doubt Drevon is summoning babies out of thin air. Maybe those eggs are attached to something, like those old wyvern ruins..."

"The blue egg was just kind of sitting in the middle of a cave near the ocean," he said. "But maybe you are on to something. I bet the library of Warfang is holding some of the answers we seek."

"Now we're talkin'." The small victory on Myrtle's face made Roland chuckle. "An actual _plan_. I'm not a big fan of readin' books, but I'll do it if it means we have any shot at getting Drevvy back. We'll see if we can find somethin' related to these wyverns and maybe, with a bit of luck, we'll be able to meet Drevon there before the next egg comes."

Finally, a good conclusion to come to. Maybe he didn't have his answers yet, but once they got to Warfang he would. If he had to be a little more patient, he could be. The sweet golden light of triumph waiting for him at the end of the stressful spiral he'd descended into was growing closer by the moment. He couldn't wait to finally reach it. It would all be worth it in the end.

"So far, we've been at a good pace," Myrtle said. "Drevon probably has to figure out where to go as well. Considerin' your big fluffy friend here has been the one to point out the wyverns to you twice, maybe we actually have the advantage."

"You're a genius, Myrtle." He couldn't help expressing it. A solid plan was finally in place. Sure, the end to their means was blurred, but this was far better than sulking over his lack of answers. It'd cheered him up after so many days of thinking and cursing under his breath.

"I wouldn't say _genius_ ," she said, "but I'm definitely smarter than you, no doubt about that at all."

"I take it back. I hate you."

She clapped him on the back with her wing, a grin on her face. She opened her maw to say something as she withdrew her wing, but she recoiled in pain. Puzzled, Roland almost asked what was wrong, and then he remembered the crystallisation. He lost that smirk when he looked at her wings, as if polished to the point of reflecting light. It had been barely noticeable before and it still was now, even with all the spirit gems she'd been taking from him, but it looked worse than when he'd examined it earlier. It was spreading from the rim of her wing and gathering at the edges of the membrane.

Myrtle didn't look at him. Roland was transparent; he knew she could tell what he was thinking about.

"I know you've been taking the gems from my satchel," Roland explained. "Your wings aren't looking good, Myrtle."

"Yeah, yeah, I know..." She shrugged. "I'm just... I was desperate. I didn't have many on me and I sorta already used them all, and then I... I'm sorry, Roland. I'm tryin' to stop, I just... _can't_ do it."

He felt pity and anxiety for her. This addiction was going to keep getting worse if she kept going on and he knew she was aware of that. Like the mole back in Midrun said, the crystallisation could progress to the point where the wings needed amputation, and Roland couldn't ever imagine a dragon being without them. Where a dragon's pride was in their horns, a dragon's soul was in the sky.

"Can't you stop for a little while? At least until the crystallisation clears up?" Roland cocked his head. Myrtle didn't have a response. But from the lack of sound, Roland had a feeling it was a plain, simple 'no.'

Roland didn't even mind she was taking them from his satchel. If she needed something to get through the day every now and then, that was okay with him. But this had gone too far too quickly. She was at risk of really hurting herself.

"We _need_ those spirit gems, Myrtle," he told her. "I know the others have some, but we need as many as we can get our paws on. I'm sorry, but we can't waste them on you..."

"I know, I just... I get stressed out and mad at myself if I don't have my daily fix, a-and I'm afraid I'll..." Myrtle sighed. Roland cocked his head.

"What are you afraid of?"

"D-don't worry." She smiled. Once again, hiding behind that wall of reassurance. "It's okay, I will... I _am_ trying my best to quit it. I know it's awful, I–"

"Myrtle, I'm–"

"Don't worry," she repeated. She got up and brushed off her chest. "I'll fix it up. Anyway, we should get back."

He opened his mouth to speak to her, but she'd already started walking back. His optimism told him she would try to do something about it. However, if he was being realistic, she was going to keep at it. It didn't feel like there was much he could do, other than catch her red-pawed or hide his satchel from her. He didn't know if she had the guts to take from anyone else. Maybe she knew he wouldn't react so negatively. After that small victory of formulating a plan, he was back to grumbling about his lack of information and being unable to help in any way.

Fluffy stood up behind him and poked Roland's tail with his wing. Roland nodded, knowing he had to get a move on. He'd spent way too long out for 'just a drink.' The others were probably wondering about him.

He got back to camp, and after answering the questions he'd foreseen with lies and noticing Tris still hadn't awoken, he dozed off huddled up next to Fluffy, making sure he put his satchel underneath the dreadwing where nobody would be able to touch it.

* * *

A new day came forth. Roland, hidden beneath his huge fluffy pillow, cracked his eyes open and poked the underside of the dreadwing. Fluffy rolled over and allowed Roland to get free. The red dragon inhaled deeply and was still pleasantly surprised to find the dreadwing didn't stink of ancient fish and damp hound. Only a good scrub and the stench no longer overpowered his nostrils.

He could even smell past that. A trace of breakfast in the air, the scent of simmering piggle. A metal dish atop a fire away from their camp seethed and spat with animal fat. In front of it stood Tris, who'd distanced herself from him and the others, probably so she wouldn't wake them up with the sounds of cooking.

None of the others had gotten up yet, and after looking at his pocket watch, he found the tiny hands only pointing at the six. Usually they left by seven. What was she doing up at this time cooking breakfast? Had she gone out hunting by herself?

She didn't notice him as he paced over, Fluffy following right behind; her eyes were glued to the meat. She looked in thought. Roland, desiring a response, cleared his throat.

Tris whirled around in an instant, wide-eyed. She calmed, though, when she noticed who it was. "Gee, you scared me. I wasn't expecting you all to wake up for another thirty minutes yet..."

"Sorry." A sheepish grin crossed his muzzle. "I woke up and saw you were making breakfast already. Did you go out hunting by yourself?"

"There was a piggle in the clearing actually, just a ways from our camp."

She averted her eyes and focused on the cuts of meat. Along with the meat were freshly picked mushrooms from around the area. A pretty standard meal by now, but a hearty, enjoyable one nonetheless. The carcass of the piggle not in use rested beside her, eyes glassy, bleeding onto the ground.

"Um... How, uh... How did you sleep, Roland?" Tris asked. He hadn't heard her so awkward in conversation before. He pitied her, knowing full well what was going through that mind of hers.

"I slept fine. Fluffy makes a nice blanket." He paced towards the fire and took a seat on the leaves. The cuts lining her face stood out in the campfire's glow, new scales glistening and thin. They didn't seem pleasant to wear. They probably stung. "How are your legs?"

"They hurt," she said. "I'm glad we had spirit gems. I can only imagine what it would've been like without them..."

He winced at the thought. He imagined horrible agony. Not only that, but she wouldn't be able to carry herself through the forest. They'd probably have to support her. He was glad they'd gathered many before their journey into the forest.

"And it could've been a whole lot worse, too," she continued. "If you guys had found me any later..."

They both didn't want to say the last part. Roland didn't want to think about it.

"Why did you run into the darkness?" he questioned. "You heard the thumping, saw all the eyes... That's practically suicide, Tris."

She inclined her head. "Yeah, I-I was aware. I'll... I'll explain when the others come over. I don't want to have to say it twice."

He understood. And so he waited for the others to awaken, a wall of silence among them. Tris flipped the fatty cuts over in the dish and then bent down, her jaw resting on her paws. She was dreading what was to come, and in a way, Roland was as well. Harper had kept his opinions to himself, but he didn't think the cheetah would be cheerful either way. It had been mere days since Harper had made an apology and pushed himself to treat Tris more like a person. Would he see this as a reason to take back what he'd said and go back to what he'd been doing? Would he do worse?

Roland realised he'd been thinking a lot about all the bad things Harper could do. But the red dragon was growing scared of him. Harper seemed a calm, intelligent individual, a good ally to have for sure, but what was beneath that? What emotions stirred underneath that nonchalant expression?

It was better to stay positive, though. Maybe Harper would see why she ran off and be able to understand... He really did hope so. Tension already hung like a hundred needles over their heads, and he didn't want another addition to that number.

"Oh, yeah." Tris stared through Roland to the dreadwing. She patted the mound of raw flesh beside her. "This is for you, Fluffy. I know you like your meat raw, so..."

Fluffy didn't listen any further. He leaped right over the fire and Tris' head and snatched the piggle up in his jaws. Roland didn't see him chew; the entire carcass was consumed in a single swallow, shredded and torn by the many fangs in his throat. A second later, Fluffy jumped back and set himself down behind the red dragon again.

"I... I guess he enjoyed that." Tris snickered quietly. "He deserves it. I couldn't really see all that well, but I know he helped out a lot yesterday. That scream must've decided the fight..."

If not for Fluffy, Roland wasn't sure they could've fought off that troll. That scream provided Harper with the ideal moment to lash out at their fearsome foe. Its stomach had been its weakness and that had been nigh impossible to get to without creating a window of opportunity. Only Fluffy's blast of terror had been able to win them that fight.

If not for Fluffy, Roland wasn't sure he himself would have been sitting around the campfire.

He owed a lot to that damn dreadwing now...

He looked up when he heard the grass rustle beneath paws. Myrtle and Ashlyn arrived together. They both eyed Tris – the yellow dragoness returned their looks – and seated themselves around the fire with a short greeting. Roland looked around for Harper and found he was awake. His back was turned and he was leaned against the tree, his arms folded as they usually were. Was he coming or not? Maybe he was thinking.

Roland didn't like the look on his face...

He shuffled his feet. Somebody would've spoken by now. Myrtle would've whipped out some hilarious quip, Tris would've mentioned the elements, or Ashlyn would've said something neat about the Everlost Forest. Maybe they were waiting for Harper to join them so they could speak.

Myrtle glanced at them all and didn't seem to be able to take much of the quiet, though. "It, uh... smells good, heh."

"Thanks," Tris muttered back. She gazed at Ashlyn, lifting the dish off the campfire by its handle. "Could you, um... put the fire out, Ash?"

"S-sure." The ice dragoness parted her maw. The fire fizzled, banished by the thin stream of slush that came from her throat. Tris set the piggle cuts aside to cool and exhaled.

But her eyes lit up a moment later. A tiny smile spread across her thin muzzle.

"Hey, you're getting better at it." She sat up, taller and straighter. "That's a better ice stream than yesterday."

"I-I was practising a little last night," Ashlyn said, a paw rubbing the area between her horn and the little spine-like spikes that made a dotted line along her skull, all the way to her forehead. "It's... It's nothing compared to what you can do, though..."

"Oh, don't be so modest. That was good! You learn faster than most people your age." Tris' gaze met Myrtle's. "And how's your magic been going?"

"I've still got some work to do, but after those tips you gave me on focusin' my magic better, pretty well, actually. I won't demonstrate here for fear of hittin' poor Roly next to me. Although, that _would_ be pretty funny..."

Roland pulled back a claw and flicked Myrtle, glaring, her only response a guiltless shrug and a hurriedly hidden smile. No matter if Myrtle was threatening him with another column of stone, though; he was glad to hear conversation.

"Where's Harper gone?" Tris asked. Roland realised the cheetah had disappeared while they were talking.

"He said he was going to take a walk. He wanted to clear his head," Ashlyn replied. "I don't know when he's getting back. He told me to just wait a while."

"And when I made breakfast early to apologise, too..." Tris slumped back down. Roland knew the effort that went into making a meal like this. Cutting up that small creature was messy work and scouring the glowing mushrooms for edible fungi was tedious and time-consuming. It would've been totally wasted if not for him and the others. "Now it'll be cold and soggy when he gets back... Oh well. I guess we'll have to eat without him."

She took the metal dish from beside her and placed it in the centre of their circle, balanced atop the smoky, sopping wood. Generally they ate together – it was something Roland wasn't quite used to, having manners at the table... or, well, the figurative one.

"What do we do while we wait for Harper?" Myrtle spoke with her mouth full. Clearly she hadn't learned anything yet. Not that Roland really cared.

"Well..." Tris sighed. She hadn't taken a bite off her cut yet. Seemed she wasn't hungry. "If Harper isn't going to be here for a while, I guess... I guess I should probably explain myself."

"We can wait for him to come back if you want," Roland said. "You said yourself that you didn't want to say it twice, and that's understandable."

"I... I think it would be better if I talked to him by myself in all honesty." Tris shrugged. Roland cocked his head. "He's probably angry at me... and I don't want you guys to have to experience that. He's... He's not good when he's mad."

"Nobody's good when they're mad, but what do you mean?" Myrtle asked. "Is he aggressive? Does he... get physical? That doesn't seem like him."

"I... I don't want to talk about that." Tris shook her head. She pursed her lips and picked at the grass with her claws.

Roland looked the way Harper had disappeared from. An unsettling spike of apprehension stabbed at his gut. Myrtle and Ashlyn exchanged a glance. He knew they had felt it, too.

"W-well, um... W-why did you run into the darkness, then?" Ashlyn questioned.

Tris exhaled. "There... There was a gem bunny. I-I tried to catch it, but it ran off into the forest. I thought I would be fast enough to go in and get it, and get out quickly enough. I was wrong, obviously. My lightning arcs kept hitting the trees and I couldn't get a clear shot at it with my other magic..."

"Why did you want it?" Roland inquired. "I mean, I know I'm greedy as fuck, but carrying all those gems around would've just been extra weight we didn't need."

"I-I-I just... I wanted Harper to look at me..." she said. Her breath shook, the air of a soul wounded by neglect. "Look at me for something I didn't do wrong. I always fail in his eyes. I-I'm always doing something wrong. I... I wanted him to be proud of me for something. Just a proud smile. He always used to give those to Pride..."

Roland knew her troubles already, but it didn't hurt any less listening to them now. Tris' voice became more subdued with each passing moment.

"I was too confident. I th-thought I could do it. And then, after trying so many times to hit it with magic, I found a troll waiting for me. That's what was following us."

She averted her gaze from their group. She wiped a paw across her closed eyes.

"I was so _stupid_. I risked my life and all of yours, just for a bit of... a bit of f-fucking _pride_. I'm so sorry. I... I-I don't want you guys to hate me. I was stupid, a-and I–"

Tris stopped as Ashlyn's paw landed on her shoulder. The yellow dragoness looked up, shocked to see her blue friend smiling.

"W-what can I say?" Ashlyn shrugged. "It wouldn't be fair of me to just... _hate_ you. You know what I did, and you understood anyway. And I understand how you're feeling, too."

"Th-that was barely your fault, though," Tris countered. Ashlyn raised her shoulders again.

"I still played some part. If anything, just try to do better. That's... That's what Roland told me."

Roland nodded in agreement. She'd made a mistake. That was all. Better to focus on being better than mope under the weight of past actions.

"Nothin' really came of it anyway," Myrtle continued. "None of us are hurt, excluding you, of course. I'm... honestly just glad you're okay, Tris."

Tris managed a smirk at that comment. She blew a sigh through her nostrils, thankful her fears weren't reality. "Heh... It almost sounds like you care about me."

"I _do_ ," Myrtle reassured her. "You're kind, smart, funny, beautiful... You've been a damn good friend considerin' it hasn't even been that long. I don't think I've ever made a good friend so quick, and my last record was Roly..."

"I guess I'm just worse than you, Tris." Roland gave Tris a wink. She chuckled happily. "And I thought I was easy to get along with."

"You _are_ easy to get along with." The blue dragoness laughed.

"Yeah... I guess the only difference is Myrtle thinking I'm not hot..." He sneaked a sly look at Myrtle. She was confused, thinking for a few moments, before she finally caught the meaning. She clenched a fist. Roland saw those green wisps rise and curl around her paw. "Your empty threats don't scare me, dirt-breath."

"Oh, I see..." Myrtle hit the ground with a solid amount of force. Too bad Roland anticipated her predictable move and leaped out of the way. A rock pillar burst forth from where he was seated, though Roland could tell it wasn't nearly as powerful as the last one that had struck him. She was better at controlling it, too. He would've praised her if she hadn't jumped over the ashes and started chasing him through the clearing.

He was glad to hear Tris laughing, though, and even Ashlyn's snicker. Sure, maybe Ashlyn and Myrtle needed a bit of work, but it kind of did seem like they were starting to get there, and Roland realised it'd been through Tris. They'd found a common interest in her. She was lessening that divide, whether she knew it or not.

If anything, he could say, for the most part, they were all friends here. Friends made mistakes sometimes. But good friends forgave those mistakes. Perhaps with time Myrtle and Ashlyn could make up and mend the fracture splitting them apart. He sure hoped so. That'd make him so much happier. A problem finally solved...

For now, though, he had faith Tris would do fine with Harper. He was tempted to go along with her and help her out, but there was no doubt Tris would reject that assistance. If things went awry, he'd step in at least. He could deal with people tolerating each other, but being angered and saddened by another person was a different thing entirely. He wasn't going to let something like that slide. He had an urge to set things right.

His back legs were tugged out from beneath his body, and he fell stomach-first onto the grass, having forgotten very quickly why he was running in the first place. Before he could realise he was still attempting to scamper away from Myrtle, she was already on top of him, a paw forcing his neck to the ground. He could feel her mischievous smile and stare burning right through him.

Oh boy. He was definitely in for it now.

* * *

Tris had left with Harper ages ago. Little jolts of worry bolted up Roland's spine every time he looked in the direction she'd gone. A ruined but ornate stone archway where the path continued was where she'd disappeared, and it remained dark and undisturbed for what he felt was too long.

They hadn't gone too far, surely. And he was certain they would've been extra careful heading through the forest. He guessed they needed a lot of time to chat. It had been subtle, but things had been shaky for a long time.

Better not to stress about it right now, though. If anything happened between them, he could deal with it when they came back. He jumped off Fluffy's back and landed in a pile of crunchy leaves. The dreadwing was too busy relaxing to follow right now.

Roland adjusted his scarf, stretched out his tight bones, and thought to have a conversation with Ashlyn. It'd been a little while since they'd last spoken one on one, and he enjoyed the chats they had every now and then... The ones not about the collapse of Firemore anyway.

She lay on her back, front paws folded over her chest, gaze fixed on the high leaves and critters excitedly hopping about the tangled vines and twigs. Roland recognised them from the Eldertree, with their pointed ears and snatching claws, grabbing at spiders and insects walking too far from their homes. He faced the danger of straying too far from the path, but he guessed the other animals did also.

Roland walked over, past Myrtle who had her back to a tree, eyes glued to her wing she'd folded over her torso. She was picking at the crystallised scales; Roland thought to tell her not to do that, but as she caught his gaze she let go of her wing and looked elsewhere. Seemed she caught the memo.

He stopped at Ashlyn's side. She acknowledged he was there with a slight nod.

"Tired of waiting yet?" he asked with a smile, inviting a conversation.

Ashlyn tittered. "Ha, just a bit. They say patience is a virtue, though."

"If there's one thing I remember from my childhood, it's my mum saying that _over and over_." Those memories... Some of the only fond ones he had left from back then. "I was a pretty impatient child. I always had to be doing something _exciting_. And then I started writing. It taught me patience. You can't rush good writing."

"I'd still love to read some of that some day. A-after all this is over, I mean..." She shrugged, sat silent for a few seconds, and then opened her mouth again. "Uh, your mother... H-how was she?"

"Hard-working, funny, and above all, kind," he said. "She was loving. We used to hang out a lot. She passed away a long time ago, though. She, uh... wasn't doing so well in the mental health department."

"O-oh. I'm so–"

"Don't worry about it. It's been a while and I don't think about it much anymore. I'm here to live in the present." He put a claw to his mouth. "Though I always did wonder what happened to my dad. After I ran from home, I never saw him again, not at my old house, nowhere. I... assume he did the same thing as her."

"Geez... That's really rough. But you're right, better to live in the present." She shifted in the grass, eyes on the tops of the canopy where the animals preyed on bugs. "I wish I had paper with me. I'd like to sketch one of those animals. I've seen people take them in as pets before, actually. They're cute... i-if you domesticate them, of course. They're a little aggressive in the wild."

"Oh?" He hadn't seen a creature so unique taken in as a pet before. Dogs, a more feral, less sentient variety of the hounds part of the Great Twelve, were common, and he'd seen plenty of birds as well, especially hawks, but nothing quite like them. "What are they?"

"They're called Soc _e_ la _._ They're not native here; they came from Lingrad, where Tris used to live, and, as you know, where the war's happening. They usually live in the snow, but they've made themselves at home here, too. This place is full of bugs for them to eat. Usually they'd attack and eat snoweeds, which are a part of the frogweed family. The Socela actually drink their acid."

"You know all these random things about the world," he said with a low chuckle.

"I-I've been around a bit of the island once. Mum and I had a lot of time to just... talk about things." She sighed, but it wasn't one of sorrow. More like one of relishing, remembering the good times sprinkled amongst the horror. She gave her ring a quick glance. "We sailed past this place once on a ship from the Shattered Vale, and I always asked questions about it. Why it was so big, why it was all _glowy_... She used to tell me about how pretty this place was and about all the animals that lived here. I know a bit about the Dragon Realms in general, but she knew _tons_. I guess that comes with being a teacher, heh..."

"Teacher, eh?" He nodded. That was a good profession to be into around the Dragon Realms. "There's lots of money in that. I can respect it."

"Yeah... I guess that's kind of what attracted my dad in the first place..."

Roland recoiled a bit at the mention of him. A frown settled on his face. "Your dad's absolutely horrible. I don't even know how someone like that exists. Usually I can see the good in somebody, but... not him. There's nothing bright there at all. Even _my_ dad had good aspects. Granted, there wasn't much good..."

"It took me a while to accept that," Ashlyn answered. "I've given it a lot of thought over the course of our trip to Warfang. H-he's... not somebody I'd like to think about anymore. We won't be seeing him again. S-sorry, probably better not to mention him..."

"It's alright." He looked up, towards the stone arch. He was expecting nothing once again, but after a moment of staring, Tris appeared around the corner. He smiled slightly. "Oh, hey, Tris is back..."

And then he noticed the lack of Harper.

"But… where's Harper?" Ashlyn finished for him.

He didn't know. All he knew was that the cheetah hadn't come back with her, and he was certain it wasn't a good sign. Whatever was going through that feline's head was keeping him from being able to forgive Tris for what she'd done.

Roland anxiously clenched his paws as she approached, felt the strings of his nerves being pulled by his gut when he saw those reddened eyes.

It hadn't gone over well. That much was obvious now. His hope had been for nought. Despite his approach to life, always having faith things would turn out fine, he knew, deep down, that Harper wouldn't accept this. Not so soon after he'd apologised. Those brief moments of improvement felt so far away.

Myrtle came out from her spot behind the tree and joined Roland by his side. Ashlyn hopped to her feet, silenced by what she knew had transpired. Fluffy stopped behind Roland; the dreadwing's head was tilted, his sense and curiosity for emotion having kicked in.

Myrtle opened her mouth as she grew closer. The yellow dragoness didn't make eye contact.

"You okay?" Myrtle asked. Tris didn't answer the question.

"H-Harper will come back later. Give him time. He's just over at the Edwin…"

She stormed past, pretending she was okay. Even she knew she was transparent, though, he could tell.

"Hang on, Tris." Myrtle tried to go after her, a paw outstretched. "What hap–"

"Leave it!" she snapped and whirled around. Myrtle drew her paw away. Aghast, Roland didn't move an inch. Tris inhaled sharply, lowered her eyes and muzzle, and trotted away. She stopped where Myrtle had been behind the tree and sat down. She buried her face in her paws and shook in uncontrollable emotion.

Just how bad had their argument been to push Tris this far over the edge? He didn't want to see her like this. And Harper had no right to make that so. Sure, she'd made a terrible mistake… but the only reason she'd made that error was because of her treatment. Maybe if he'd been a better father…

Roland was starting to lose his tolerance for this cheetah. A good father would be able to forgive his child. It barely even seemed like he loved her sometimes... She was more like an object, a thing to look at and admire in everyone's eyes, but neglected in Harper's own. Some sort of glorified, abused trophy.

The red dragon stood taller. He had to take this into his own paws. He knew where the cheetah was. He had to make his move and stop it.

"I need you two to help her out," he told the pair of girls. He turned towards the stone arch, narrowing his gaze. "I'm gonna go find Harper."

Ashlyn put a paw up. "Wait, Roland. I-I'll help Tris, but I'm not sure if talking to Harper is a good idea. I-I'm sort of scared of him. He doesn't seem… stable. We should just wait for him to come back and leave him alone."

"I'm aware." But he needed to do this. He couldn't wait for this to blow over. He couldn't leave a friend in the shadows like that. He couldn't let Harper keep on going with this bullshit. "Harper listened to me before, though. If he listened once, he just might again…"

Ashlyn sighed and didn't say anything more.

In spite of her worries and stress, Myrtle gave a confident nod. She believed in him, and so did he. He could fix this. "Just be careful, Roly. And I think you should leave the dreadwing here. Tris told us about the whole… incident involvin' Harper's son. I don't think Harper should be around it..."

"Stay, Fluffy," Roland commanded the dreadwing. Fluffy followed orders, but the fear etched across his features didn't make Roland feel good about leaving him there. That apprehensive look… It was like Fluffy knew something would go astray. He just couldn't word it.

No time to think about it, however. The red dragon turned and jogged towards the path. He had a friend to help. He had a family to repair.

* * *

The roaring water was what caught him off-guard at first. It smashed against the rocks, a torrent of liquid pummels. It was like a war inside there, land against sea, elements clashing together. Through the vines and over the cliff's edge was the ravine brewing with the power of nature, simply known as the Edwin. The name didn't do its might any justice.

Rivers and streams that wound up here dropped off the side in thick waterfalls, into the heart of the Edwin, like lifeblood circulating through the body of Everlost. Dotted along the cliff and growing between small cracks in the gravel path before him were more of the blue fungi. He would've expected the ones in front of him to be lit up, but many had dimmed, touched recently by Harper and Tristana's feet.

Roland grasped the rock jutting out of the edge of the cliff and held himself still. In spite of his wings, he still didn't fancy falling over the side. Being ripped apart at the seams in the rushing sea of stalagmites, by nature itself, wasn't a thought he relished in.

He hadn't really wanted to go near this place. But where the path deviated into two thinner roads, he had no choice but to follow the sign leading to it. Harper was somewhere along this cliff. He'd have to keep his eyes peeled for the yellow cheetah, whose natural camouflage would make him a challenge to spot if he was in the bushes somewhere.

Roland paced along the cliff, his golden tail blade held high just in case there were monsters lying in wait. He wasn't sure the blunt, curved instrument would prove useful in an actual battle - not like he'd prove much use in a fight by himself anyway – but it was better to be cautious and have it at the ready for a blunt attack than not.

A weird feeling crawled up his stomach, apprehensive in nature. His instincts were trying to tell him something. Like they expected combat. With Harper? He wasn't so sure. Harper wasn't like that. It could've been a monster, but along the path following the mushrooms, he was certain he wasn't in any real danger.

Ahead of him was an area sealed by loose vines, draped over a timber arch like makeshift curtains. He grasped at them and pulled them apart. The road ended suddenly in a tiny opening in the woods. Lifechains hung from rope-like coils of vine, illuminating a small camping ground. Logs were sawed and placed around the clearing to create long seats, and a circle of chalky white stones perfect for a fire pit was nestled in the centre of it all. The view behind it was impressive, the full expanse of the Edwin stretching into the dark beyond. There was a singular stump off to the right that didn't really seem to fit in.

And that was where the cheetah was.

Roland saw Harper staring deep into the depths of the Edwin, a small rectangular bottle clasped in his paw. He raised it to his muzzle, took a huge gulp, and then dropped it. The watery amber stored within leaked from the open cap, liquid death absorbed by the grass. Roland may have been starting to get sick of the cheetah's actions, but his worry for him was still instantaneous.

And now he was worried for himself, too. Was Harper stable enough to talk to? Would he even listen? What if he wasn't thinking and…

No, Roland needed to do this now. Now or never. Harper needed to listen _now_. Roland closed his eyes and breathed his fears away.

He could do this. He knew he could. He _had_ to.

"Harper..." his voice came, firm.

The cheetah didn't acknowledge his presence. Somehow, Roland was sure Harper knew he was there, though, in spite of his drunken state.

"What did you do, Harper?" Roland asked. "What did you _say_ to her? I've never seen her so upset..."

Harper remained quiet and still. The silence was unnerving. Roland felt the fear gathering his throat again.

"Why are you like this to her? The only reason she went out there was so she could make you proud. She just wanted a smile."

No response.

Roland clenched his fist. This wasn't working. He felt his anger bubbling up, his impatience rising.

"What's wrong with you?" Roland growled. "Did you even hear her out?"

Roland thought he saw a quiver of movement. It wasn't enough for him. He needed an answer. He was going to get it. He wasn't ignoring the calling of an actual response.

"Do you even love her?"

Harper jolted out of his seat, his fur standing on end. He whipped around and drew his pistol, pulling the hammer. It clicked, a fiery shot primed.

It took Roland a while to realise it was trained on him.

"Why should I listen to _you_?" the cheetah snapped. Roland took a hasty step back. "Don't move!"

Roland shivered. He'd gone too far. He should've left when he had the chance. Now he was staring death in the face.

"H-Harper..." He slowly shook his head. "P-p-put the gun down. Y-you don't want to–"

"Why not?!" Harper yelled, thrusting the firearm forward. Those glossy, wet eyes stared at Roland with what he assumed was hatred. "Why don't I want to?"

"Y-you're not thinking straight... P-please put... put it down. We can talk about this..."

"No." Harper slowly moved forward. "You're all involved. This has been a long time coming."

The red dragon's breath quivered. He kept shaking his head. Frightened tears formed. "I-involved in what?"

"His death. My son. Pride. You of all people should _know_."

No, he had nothing to do with that! How could anybody think that!?

It didn't matter that it was unreasonable. Harper didn't care.

"I... I-I don't know what you're talking about! How did I–"

"All the _secrecy_ ," Harper said. "The dreadwing. Both related to the purple dragon. I _know_ they are. And I know you had something to do with this."

"I-I... no, I didn't–"

The barrel met his skull, and he stopped. Sharp steel shoved against his head, a fiery fate awaiting within. He felt his breath catch. Tears coursed down his cheeks.

"The things you've been seeing, the wyverns you asked about, that... that damn _look_ on your face back in Midrun. I knew something was different about you. And I can't believe it's taken me this long to put two and two together. I've been travelling with an enemy this whole time."

"You don't understand!" Roland cried. "I know the purple dragon! He's my best friend! But I'm not trying to end the world! I don't know what's up with the dreadwing! I didn't _kill_ your _son_!"

But nothing was of use. Stubborn and his mind corrupted with brew, Harper didn't listen.

"Give me one good reason why I should believe you, Roland. Just _one_."

"Harper! Please! I-I'll tell you everything I know, just… just put it down!"

Harper sighed. "And have you lie to me?"

"I-I'll…" There was no point. The cheetah was too unstable, too _emotional_ to listen to the words of the truth.

And Roland felt as though it was all his fault. If he hadn't kept this from him…

There was nothing he could say. He had to do something. He had to run.

"One reas–"

Roland swiped at the pistol to snatch it from him before Harper could finish speaking, but knocked it from his grip and sent it flying to the side. The feline tried to grab at it, but Roland bashed his horned cranium into the cheetah's chest. Harper tripped over, unable to resist the blow in his drunken state; Roland turned around and sprinted with all his might. He barged through the vines.

But it didn't matter. His efforts were for nought.

Gunfire made Roland's ears hum. Seething agony burst through his stomach. Hot lead boiled. Scales shattered and flesh torn, blood spilled from his gut. And then the bullet made its exit through his side, smacking against a tree with a bang. He tripped with a gasp, his paw fixed to his stomach.

He shook and sobbed in pain; every breath was more fiery than the last, every heave was one tortured throb after another. He felt fluid in his throat. He wasn't sure if it was vomit or blood.

He tried and tried to get away, but it was too much. The scarlet-stained floor was like blades to his wound, rubbing against dirt and grass. He stopped at the edge of the cliff, shivering, dying.

Harper halted at his side and looked down upon him. Roland peered up with tear-stained eyes.

"H-H-Harp–"

"Save it for the Ancestors."

The hammer clicked back. Roland shut his eyes tight, his sobs echoing across the Edwin.

A scream pierced Roland's earholes. Harper staggered backwards with his paws clasped over his head. Fluffy emerged from the corner, flapping furiously, screeching continuously, blasting the cheetah with wave after wave of paralysing fear. Harper groaned, then roared at the sensation drilling through his head.

Roland looked up at his saviour; his vision was fogged, his mind starting to give way, but he managed to utter a low, bloody thank you. Fluffy would help him. Fluffy would stop this.

Then, another gunshot. Blood flew through the air and Fluffy screamed again. He veered to the left and fell from the sky, landing with a thud beside Roland. Panicking, Roland pressed crimson paws against his companion. The dreadwing struggled to his feet, only to fall over again.

"N-n-no, F-Fluffy… G-get up. Please…"

There was no further response.

Roland spluttered against the dreadwing's hide. How had Harper broken through the fear? How had he…

Was Fluffy...?

Warm tears spilled down his face like the blood on his side. "F-Fluffy… No…"

"ROLAND!" Ashlyn's familiar tone screamed. Paws rushed around the corner. Ashlyn came first, followed swiftly by the others.

He couldn't turn to face them. He was too weak to tell them to run from the monster of Everlost, from the monster he himself had created. All this time lying dormant inside. That was where the monsters really were, within them all. Those had to be the creatures people spoke of. The forest was merely the spark to set them off.

"Harper, stop!" Tris yelled. Even his daughter's voice was useless.

Another bullet, but Roland managed to catch the sound of the earth shifting. The third shot collided with Myrtle's earth pillar.

And then, with the force of a Guardian, a bolt of powerful lightning shot across the air, straight into the chest of the cheetah. There was a groan, crackling power. And then everything started going quiet.

His vision fading, he closed his tearful eyes. All he remembered after that was the feeling of falling, and one last faint scream of his name.

* * *

"Hang on, Roland. It'll be alright. I trust in the Ancestors to keep you well."

He didn't recognise that voice. He peeled his groggy eyelids but could barely see anything. It was all black and gloomy.

He felt… wet. And cold. And in pain. Why was everything soaked? Where was he? Why did it all hurt so much? He couldn't feel anything else. Just stabbing, stabbing, _stabbing_ …

"Just close your eyes, Roly." That voice he knew, clearly Myrtle. He breathed a shaky sigh at her tone. "You're hurt real bad. Close your eyes and sleep. We'll fix you up."

What was _we_? His friends, but... who was the other one?

He listened, though. He trusted her. He shut his eyes and let unconsciousness take him away again.


	25. Curse of the Ancients

Curse of the Ancients

He was startled awake by the light shining into his closed eyelids and the feeling of a warm doona wrapped around his torso, unfamiliar after days of sleeping nestled within fur. He brought his head up in an instant, and before he could realise where he was or what was happening, he knocked his skull against an overhanging wooden lamp, bumping it off a chest of drawers beside the bed. It rattled as it crashed into the floor and the small bulb once lighting the room shattered.

He looked down fearfully, clutching the sheets in his front paws. Where was he? Why wasn't he still in the forest? Whose house was he in? What happened to him...?

He thought harder, and then it hit him like a tonne of bricks. Tris' bind, Harper, the gunfire, the crack of thunder…

He wasn't dead?

Roland pinched his leg to really make sure he was there. He winced slightly at the pain. He drew his paw back, confused, when he brushed over a rough fabric covering his stomach.

Roland pushed the sheets away to reveal bandages wound around his gut, taut. He pressed his stomach and cringed, recoiling at the mere touch. He felt that fiery lead that once gouged his body burn again, but it quickly settled. There were two conspicuous red dots on either side of him, the opening and exit wounds of the E.F.'s projectile.

He'd... actually _survived_. Somebody had patched him up. But who? Who'd left him here to rest? And how in the name of the Ancestors was he still alive? One moment he'd been bleeding out, uncontrollable crimson flowing from his stomach, and now he was almost as good as new, apart from the warm stinging of his wound.

Hadn't he heard a voice before? Myrtle's, and… someone's? He wasn't sure who. The main thing, though, was that he was alright, although a bit woozy from blood loss.

But where was he? He looked up from his bandaged front and around the room, a box made of thick boards painted chocolate-brown. His double bed, sheets striped with a pattern of varying shades of red, took up nearly the entire room, but there was enough space for a chest at its feet, half-open. Vases filled with water lay within, a greenish herb with long, twig-thin leaves set inside each that he instantly recognised as paraneda herb, many with their leaves ripped off the stems. Then he noticed the square window beside his bed, and instead of finding himself looking into that blasted canopy, the abyssal black, he realised the sun was out there, a small line of light rising over the trees.

He was still inside the Everlost Forest, that he was sure of, but this home seemed to sit in an opening right on the very edge. He had so many questions about how he got here, but he could find and ask the owner about everything soon. Where his friends were, everything like that.

He eyed a jug of water and a glass sitting next to it atop the chest of drawers, reminding him how dry his throat was. He didn't remember his last drink being long ago at all. How long had he been here resting?

He shrugged and poured himself some water. The glass fogged up; he was warm and comfortable in these sheets, but outside the confines of this bed, the cold nipped at his face. He was almost tempted not to get out of them to figure out where he was. But he had to. Right after his drink, though...

As soon as he put the cool glass to his muzzle, the door to his small room swung open. Standing in the doorway was probably the strangest thing he'd ever seen, a deer with a coat of white fur. Glistening antlers adorned his head, tall and golden, and he scanned Roland with yellow eyes. Roland had never seen a deer before, not one of the goldhorns. Didn't they usually live in the snow?

The deer eyed Roland for a few seconds longer, and then turned his gaze to the mess the red dragon had made on the floor with the lamp. Roland rubbed at his head, embarrassed.

"Uh... s-sorry, I didn't mean to," he said. "I woke up and hit my head on it..."

"Oh, it is quite alright," the deer replied. "I left that battery lamp here to give this room some light, but the sun outside should do. More importantly, you've woken up, Roland. Good to see you. You're up bright and early today."

"Um, where am I?" Roland cocked his head. "And... who are you?"

"Ah, excuse my manners. My name is Darryl." Darryl crossed one leg over his front and bowed his head shortly. "Darryl Dyer, at your service... And this is my home at the edge of the woods. I do hope you've enjoyed your sleep."

He was... very polite. Roland didn't think he'd seen such an inviting, friendly person before.

"How long was I out for?" Roland asked. "And where are my friends?"

Then he remembered Fluffy, too. He froze at the thought. Hadn't he...?

His eyes threatened to tear up. But he wouldn't let them. Not until he knew if Fluffy's fate had actually been sealed trying to protect him.

"And... the dreadwing. Where's the dreadwing?" Roland continued. "Is he okay?"

"Dreadwing?" Darryl leaned forward, as though he hadn't heard correctly. Roland almost wanted to bite his nails. Then the cogs of Darryl's mind whirred, visible on his expression. "Ah, yes, the _dreadwing_. Fluffy, you call him. Ashlyn told me about him. His injuries were rather severe and he lost a lot of blood, but he's fine now. He's going to need a lot of rest, however. Give him a day of sleep and he'll be back up and moving. I've prepared a bed for him in the meantime."

Roland breathed a sigh of immense relief. Fluffy had just fallen unconscious in the fight, then. That was all. Roland couldn't begin to explain how glad he was that his loyal companion hadn't fallen trying to defend him. He didn't know if he could live with himself being the cause of his death.

"To answer your other questions, you were recovering for around a day," Darryl continued, walking around the side of the bed. His grey hooves made little tapping noises on the floorboards. "And your friends are all here. They're all lovely dragonesses, really. Even that Myrtle, who is a bit rough around the edges, I will say."

He was glad to hear his friends were okay, but a whole day of sleeping? He guessed Darryl had used spirit gems to heal the injuries, else he'd probably still be in the process of recovering. He couldn't believe he'd been keeping them waiting for so long, though.

"Can I see them?" he questioned, shifting in bed. Unfortunately, Darryl shook his head.

"The sun has barely come up, Roland. I do apologise, but none of them are awake. If I were you, I'd suggest you go back to sleep. I'll answer as many questions as I can for you now, though."

The only thing he was unsure of now was where Harper was, if he had been killed or not. He remembered that thunderbolt as clear as glass, a powerful flash of searing light streaking through the air. That thing had had enough power in it to end someone in an instant. And to think Tris had released something so strong upon her own father...

He remembered what she'd said, about emotions overcharging the elements. Maybe it had been pure accident. Whatever the case, it'd saved him, and he was grateful for that. But what of Harper?

"Is there... a cheetah here?" Roland asked. Darryl nodded.

"Yes, Harper. I've heard about what happened. It seems to me that there was a great deal of poor communication between you all. I have confiscated his weaponry, just in case, but I don't know if he will be waking up anytime soon. He's not in a good position at the moment, both physically and in everyone's eyes."

Darryl's gaze softened and he shook his head.

"Tris has been worried sick about him," he began once more. "Harper is in what we think is a coma. I don't believe she's been taking this well at all. To be fair, I don't think anybody else has, either. Everyone's been worried about you, especially. No matter how many times I said Kaya knew what she was doing, they wouldn't stop stressing about you. Ashlyn has been by your side for much of this time, actually."

Roland raised his glass of water again and took a mouthful. So Harper didn't sound like he was getting up. While Roland didn't think it was a nice thing to say, he was kind of glad the cheetah wasn't going to be waking up soon. He couldn't trust him anymore, not after what he'd done and tried to do to all of his friends. He'd loosed a bullet at _Myrtle_ , for fuck's sake. She had done absolutely _nothing_ to him. Roland didn't even deserve to get shot, so especially not her.

"In fact, I would go as far as to say Ashlyn's interested in you, Roland."

Roland choked on his drink. Darryl could hold his stoic expression for only a moment before his soft laughter came forth.

"Ah, I do like a good joke," he said. "Just breaking the tension a little. Anything else to ask, though?"

"Um..." Awkwardly, he chuckled in response, his face hot. That was not true at all. No, _definitely_ not. He wouldn't believe that for a second. "Kaya... Who's she?"

Darryl nodded. "A young friend of mine. She's... _special_. She would do a far better job at introducing herself than I. She hasn't been able to contain her excitement over meeting you."

"Excitement?" He frowned. Why did Darryl make it sound like she was desperate to meet him? What was making him so special now?

"Well, Kaya is usually quite happy to meet other people, but she seemed especially joyous at merely the idea of talking to you. I'm perplexed myself; we can figure out her intentions later, though. For now, I think it's best we sleep."

Something Roland hadn't noticed before was the strange wooden claw attached to Darryl's front hoof, five-prongs probably used for grabbing things, flat against the floor, invisible atop the wooden boards until now. The goldhorn pushed a small lever on the mechanism with his other hoof and the claw closed around the broken lamp. He would've wondered how Darryl had made and took care of a house inside the Everlost Forest without paws for grabbing things, but it was clear that this was how.

"Yeah..." Roland fell backwards in the bed and then onto his side. He didn't want to put holes in this incredibly comfortable mattress with his spines. "I'm still feeling a bit light-headed anyway. It'd do me some good. Thanks for answering my questions and... you know, saving me and all that."

"There is no need." Darryl bowed once more. "But you should show Kaya your gratitude. She may be young, but her knowledge of the forest's flora and magic saved your life. Spirit gems simply hadn't been enough. We couldn't give you too many, on account of dragons reacting explosively to high quantities of them. Had she not been here, the damage to your organs would've been irreversible and most certainly fatal."

Roland cringed at the thought of being so horribly wounded. He could still feel it now, that hot tingling where the bullet had ruptured his gut. "I'll make sure I do, Darryl. Thanks."

"Alright," the deer said. "I will come back with something to sweep up the glass, and then I'll let you head back to sleep."

And after Darryl came back and did that, he left Roland with a bow. Roland sighed into his pillows and put a paw to his side. The kindness of some people... he didn't really understand. It wasn't something he took for granted. Not him. Not somebody who'd been an infamous criminal for much of their life.

He was just glad to be alive...

* * *

After waking up the next morning and smoothing out the messy sheets of his bed to be polite, Roland twisted the knob on his door and revealed the hallway outside. It was time he moved downstairs and met with his friends. He'd kept them waiting long enough; the hands on his golden pocket watch had struck twelve. He couldn't leave them to worry over him anymore. He wasn't worth that kind of attention.

He walked through the hallway, looking at the four doors around him, set out like some kind of inn. No doubt Harper was behind one of them, resting off his own injuries. He wasn't game to check on him, though, not after he'd suffered a near fatal wound because of him. He didn't want to be around that cheetah at all. He wondered selfishly for a moment why he was even there after what he'd done, but he quickly remembered Tris and tucked those thoughts away.

If anything, he wasn't travelling with that cheetah anymore. Harper was holding them all back, a detriment to their journey as a whole. Roland knew Harper had been through a great deal, but that didn't excuse _pulling a gun_ on him. He wasn't going to trust someone who'd intentionally tried to murder him, even if they weren't thinking clearly. Harper had never had good reasons.

When he reached the staircase, he realised how uncomfortable it was to walk around. Each step made his sides flare. He had to take a moment to rest leaned up against the wall halfway down the stairs, where they curved and went in the other direction. The steps squeaked with their age, and he mused about how long the deer had been living in these woods to get his mind off the pain.

As he reached the bottom, he entered another boxy room, what he assumed was the living area. The floor was carpeted with a soft grey material that felt nice to walk on. A stone fireplace set in the chocolatey wall in front of him crackled with life, orange light reflected on the wooden mantle above. Higher still, above the mantle, was a large picture, a portrait of Darryl himself.

Two long, soft seats lay in front of a square window, and there was a footstool with a small table in front of it across from the fire. He wondered for a second how a _deer_ was supposed to use them, but then he noticed the massive pillow on the other side of the fireplace, a Darryl-shaped depression pressed into the surface. The seats were probably for rare guests then.

And that was the case, because Ashlyn was spread across the footstool on her stomach, her face buried in a book on the tiny table. She hadn't yet noted his presence. A smirk crossed Roland's muzzle and he crouched low to the ground, trying to suppress the pain so he could pull off his little gag.

Sneakily, he crawled over and got right beside her. He tapped her side and uttered one spooky word.

"Boo."

Ashlyn jumped and almost fell off the footstool, the book she'd been holding flying off the table and spinning out of control before it thumped against the ground. She spun around and Roland ducked, the tip of her tail blade swinging inches from the tips of his horns. He hadn't expected his little scare to be so dangerous.

But it was funny and that was what he cared about. He laughed at her expense and she eyeballed him in total surprise.

"Roland!" she exclaimed. "Why? Y-you almost gave me a heart attack! I could've chopped your head off!"

"I saw an opportunity and I took it," he replied, shrugging, innocence plastered all over his face. "Anyway, yes, I woke up. Hello."

"Yeah, I noticed!" She frowned like a disapproving mother. Roland chuckled some more. "I would've said I was glad to see you're alright, but... Okay, m-maybe that joke's a little too mean. It's good to see you awake. You've been out for more than a day."

"I'm aware." He nodded. "And I've met Darryl, too. He's nice. How are you?"

"Apart from grazing my side on one of those stalagmites, I'm fine," she responded. Roland had seen the area earlier, where some of the scales had peeled off. She seemed to notice the confused look on his face at the mention of the rocks. "Oh, yeah. Y-you, uh... kind of fell into the Edwin."

"What?" How had that happened? He didn't remember that.

She hopped off the footstool and stood, picking up the book and placing it back where it'd been. He couldn't quite make out the title, but he knew it was some kind of art book from the cover alone. He realised she had paper in front of her as well that had been sitting beneath the book, and she'd been in the middle of sketching something. He wasn't sure what it was supposed to be, but it looked as though she'd barely started.

"When you fell unconscious, you slipped in. Myrtle and I went after you. You're really lucky to be alive, Roland. Stupidly lucky..."

He'd thought he was fortunate to not die of blood loss, but straight up falling into the Edwin? His chances should've been ripped away from him right then.

"You were bleeding pretty bad when you came out," she continued. "If not for Darryl, I-I'm not sure you would've made it. After we got you out of the water, we stumbled upon him on the side of the river, and he brought us back here. You were treated and you've been resting here since then."

He couldn't believe she'd actually jumped in after him, though. She'd risked her own life to save his. For that, he was eternally grateful.

"How many times have you saved me now?" he asked with a smile. "Two? Three?"

"It's not like I've been counting!" she exclaimed. "That would be selfish of me. Of course I'm going to try and save you, b-but I-I don't do it for _pride_..."

"You're allowed to feel proud. I give you permission." He chuckled. It made her join him in grinning. "I wouldn't say it's luck anyway. It was all you. That makes you luck incarnate."

"I-I-I didn't do everything!" She shook her head. "Y-you can thank Myrtle, too. It took both of us to lift you from the ravine."

"I'll be sure to." He looked towards the open door, leading into what he thought was a dining room. "Where is she, by the way?"

Ashlyn gestured her way. "I'll show you to her. I need to get a new pencil anyway. The last one snapped..."

"A pencil?" It'd only occurred to him then that she _had_ been using a pencil for drawing, and he had to ponder how she even held it. Writing and drawing with his claw was the only way he knew how. "I could never quite use them. They're not really made for our paws."

"It takes a bit of getting used to, but with the right technique it's not so hard. I'm definitely not sketching in _ink_. I wouldn't be able to rub out my mistakes." She led him down another hallway. This house was bigger than Roland had thought it was; they went straight through the dining room and into another area in the back. Ashlyn pushed the two doors open, revealing Darryl's archive in its full splendour.

This house had seemed beautiful to the red dragon at first, what with the gorgeous wooden boards and exquisitely crafted furniture, but this room took his breath away. Covered in stories and poetry and all sorts of history, colourful tomes and books lined across shelf after shelf of polished wood. A golden chandelier hung from the ceiling, lighting the centre where seats and cushions lay everywhere, and a small circular window at the top allowed the warmth of sunlight entrance. It was a reader's paradise. He guessed Darryl was a bit of a reading fanatic. Roland felt like he could spend his whole life inside this room. Just how long had it taken Darryl to amass this collection of stories and bring them all back here?

How long had it taken to make this house in general? It seemed like his whole life's work at this point...

Darryl was atop one of the cushions, looking over a book. As he heard them enter, he lifted himself up and walked over. His face oozed the word 'polite.'

"Ah, you've woken up, Roland," Darryl's cheery voice came. "It's good to see you, though I would suggest resting up a little more. It's quite obvious to me that you're still in no shape to be moving around."

"Yeah, it hurts a little..." He shrugged. "Nothing I can't handle, though. Is Myrtle here?"

"Right here," the green dragoness spoke up, jogging out from behind the corner of one of the bookshelves. She stopped in front of Roland and playfully punched him square in the chest. It was a little too hard, like always. "Good to see you up, Roly. You look like a mummy."

"Oh, please. _Barely_ ," he replied. He was nothing like those ancient hounds, mummified by their own race to preserve them for religious intentions. He didn't know much of that ancient culture, but that much was known to him. "A bit weird to see you in a library, Myrtle."

"I was lookin' for books on our questions." She lowered her head. "I remembered today that I'm... not really the best reader, though. I didn't know what half the words said. I've still got some books waiting on a desk that might help, but I ain't sure."

He guessed that came from spending hardly a moment of her life inside an academy or with her mother. Roland had his parents at one point, and he taught himself general literacy from there. "That's okay. We'll have a look over them later. I'm just gonna say hi to everyone first."

"What questions?" Darryl asked. "Perhaps I can be of some assistance."

"Oh, w-we've already caused you enough trouble already..." Ashlyn giggled shortly.

"Heavens, no! It's rare that I have visitors. I wish to spare you all the help I can give. I simply must be hospitable..."

"Well..." Roland didn't think there was much point keeping the questions from him. This was the first time he'd seen a library since Firemore, so now was the opportune moment to ask for help. "We were wondering if you know about or have anything here about _wyverns_."

"Ah, I think I see what this is all about. What a strange group of kids you are..."

"You... do?" Ashlyn muttered. Roland and Myrtle shared her surprise.

"Indeed." He smiled warmly. "Kaya has told me much of what she knows from her mother and father. I believe you are desiring information about the five eaters. Or, more specifically, the Final Five."

Roland sat on his paws. How had he known they wanted answers specifically about that? Maybe he knew about the wyverns and their eggs, and assumed that they'd seen them, too. It wasn't like it was everyday that someone spoke of the wyverns. Whatever the case, though, he was willing to listen to whatever this deer had to say. If he had answers, Roland would consume them like apple pies.

"The Final Five?" Myrtle repeated. Darryl sat down on his pillow again.

"They're the last of their ancient kin," he began. "The wyverns of old devoured magic as a source of sustenance. They're called _eaters_ for that reason _._ They were feared creatures. Wherever they went, they brought destruction and plague. Our world needs magic to survive; the core of our planet suppresses the darkness contained deep within. It was named the Black Horror by Kaya's ancient race. Ultimately, the wyverns brought about their own downfall in the form of overpopulation. When there was no magic left to consume and the world couldn't regenerate the elements fast enough, the darkness couldn't be stopped, and the wyvern race met its fate at the hands of the Black Horror."

"If the wyverns all died off, then how come they're here now?" Roland questioned.

"Like I said, those five are the last of their kind. If you came from Firemore, you probably saw the ancient stone wall built into the side of that cliff, or you've at least heard about it. It was dug up by the moles not long ago." Everyone nodded, knowing the structure he spoke of, the wall with the platforms leading down to the bottom. "These wyverns come from something similar, yet much smaller. Maybe you've heard of the monoliths as well."

They all shook their heads at that one. But Roland felt like he'd heard the name somewhere, back in one of those presentations they gave in the market square of Firemore. It'd probably phased straight through his mind, totally unimportant at the time.

"They're magical columns of stone built as... let's say _time capsules_. They were some of the last things constructed by their kind. When the wyverns knew they were dying out, they made five capsules to keep five of their young safe in the event of total calamity. They were right in doing so, because they met their fates shortly after. Thankfully for them, the monoliths survive to this day."

"So... the eggs come from the monoliths?" Myrtle said. "Why didn't Roly see any stone thingos, then? He didn't mention them."

"I don't know how they work exactly," Darryl explained, "but I do know that the wyverns had control over aether, and if you didn't see any of the monoliths then it's probably aether that's made them disintegrate. The purple dragon's breath turns stone to dust."

Everyone had heard the stories of purple dragons, of how Spyro destroyed Gaul by petrifying him with his breath, then turning him to less than ashes. Roland could see how the monoliths probably followed those same rules.

"The wyverns wanted to make sure their eggs were well-protected," Darryl continued. "So, they fastened the monoliths together with that powerful magic, and it was only aether that could break them apart as well. They seemed to know that if their whole race was wiped out, nobody would have the power to release them, however, and so that is why your kind is cursed with that parasite. The one the purple dragon has and is being used by right now. The darkness."

"You... you know about that monster inside him?" Roland asked. Darryl gave a solemn nod of his head. Roland averted his gaze and let out a saddened breath. "The purple dragon's my best friend. His name's Drevon. How was he... cursed? How did the wyverns curse us?"

"I don't know anything of their methods," he said. "This Drevon is a danger to the world, however. The purple dragons before him resisted the curse. Malefor broke through and grew his own ambitions. Spyro was killed before anything could come of it. We don't know if other purple dragons have existed. But now I'm afraid your friend is going to wreak havoc. He's releasing the wyverns from their deep slumber. The Final Five are more powerful than any wyvern this world has ever seen. They've been building their power for thousands of years inside the monoliths. I believe there isn't much we can do now but await the end... and the beginning of a new era."

How did Darryl – or this Kaya, for that matter – know so much about the wyverns and Drevon? They knew more than everyone! And Darryl was already suspecting the end of the world? Already giving up hope?

Roland couldn't say he hadn't foreseen Drevon's change into the monster he was now being the start of something much bigger. But he really didn't think it would go this far...

"The... end?" Myrtle frowned. "You mean this world's gonna end? How?! What?"

"Once the Final Five are brought together, they will consume all the elements and bring about a new era. The wyverns believed that the eaters would destroy this world, go into hiding to await the regeneration of magic, and mate, claiming this world as their own again. Meanwhile, the rest of the world would be totally and utterly destroyed by the Black Horror."

The end... The end? It was hard to believe. Roland couldn't see it at all. But the facts were all there and everything lined up. These were the only answers he had. He was going to believe them.

He really had to get to the purple dragon now...

"Can we prevent it?" Roland asked. "Is there anything we can do?"

"Unless you can somehow cure the purple dragon of the curse, there isn't anything we can do," Darryl said, face sorrowing. "Being his best friend, it is easy to say that you, Roland, would have the best chance of doing so, but... I don't think it will be enough now. Drevon is too far gone already. He's already awakening the wyverns. I apologise, kids. It probably hurts to hear it this way. I'd say we have two or three years left, give or take, before the world starts to collapse from a lack of magic, and that is only an estimate. Dragons will feel it first, a loss of power inside you before it disappears completely. And that will be when the Black Horror emerges and destroys everything."

"Not if Roland has anything to do with it, ya big dummy!"

Roland's eyes wandered across the room, searching for the creator of that high-pitched voice. Up in the air, soaring through the circular window up high, was what he thought was a dragon at first. But when he noticed the lack of wings, that wasn't any further from the truth.

"Kaya?" Darryl frowned. "Didn't I tell you to knock at the door?"

"Yeeeeaaah, but I couldn't help but notice you were talking about all the wyvern stuff without me, and decided I would pop my own thoughts in because yours are _absolutely depressing_." She twirled in the air and landed on the floor. Roland had never seen anything like her before. She wasn't a part of the Great Twelve, the twelve united species of the Dragon Realms. What was this creature?

Her body was small and serpentine, about half his size, coated in soft, faint green fur, her back lined with thick white hair. She stood on the ground with four paws and flew through the air with what he could only presume was magic. Her scarlet eyes were like little dots of sunlight. Her face was dragon-shaped, but she wore no horns. Instead, two floppy ears drooped over the sides of her face. As soon as her gaze met Roland's, they shot straight into the air.

"Oh my... YES! HE'S AWAKE! FINALLY!" she screamed in utter delight. Darryl lowered his head in shame.

"Please, Kaya, keep your voice down," he said. "We have guests here and I don't want you frightening them with your–"

"I have waited _SO_ long to meet you, Roland!" Kaya squealed over the goldhorn. Roland stood back, his eyes like wide saucers. She was certainly... _something_. "You have _no_ idea how long it's been! It's been, like... A DAY! That's way too long to be waiting for the actual _saviour of the planet_."

"H-hold on a moment..." What was she saying? Saviour? He was gonna crack up if she said that again. "What... What even are you? Some kind of... flying snake?"

"I'm not a snake, you dolt! I'm an _earth serpent_!"

She floated up in the air, folding her paws across her chest, with a sour look on her face. He didn't see how those things were so different.

Roland looked at his friends and they all seemed as perplexed as each other. Darryl noticed this and he turned his gaze to Kaya.

"Kaya, please try to calm yourself," he said. "You're bewildering my guests. They've never seen anything like you before."

"Oh – okay, fine. Okay, okay..." Her squealing stopped completely. "Sorry if we got off on the wrong foot. My name's Kaya. I'm an earth serpent _and_ Darryl's best friend. And you, red dragon, are Roland. Roland the time dragon."

"Y-you know what I am?" Roland nearly broke out into his own squeals of happiness. Did she have answers for him? What he wouldn't do for more...

"Time dragon?" Darryl uttered in pure shock. Roland could hear the delight in his tone as well, however. "Well... that is certainly a surprise. And definitely changes things."

The dragons in the room all looked at each other, shocked and confused. This was all so much to take in. The world was supposedly coming to an end, this Kaya knew Roland was a time dragon without even asking and thought he was some sort of _saviour_... He didn't even know what to think. But curiosity always reigned supreme, and he needed to hear more.

"Yup!" she answered. "We've been waiting for somebody like you for literally _forever_." She put huge emphasis on that final word. Hadn't Darryl said her race was ancient? "And I'm gonna take a wild guess and say you have _so many questions_."

"How about we take this to the living room?" Darryl said. "And perhaps we should explain this to Tris as well. I have no doubt she will want to know if she's travelling with you."

Despite the fact that he had questions, Roland had to check on Fluffy first and foremost. He wanted to say hello at the very least. So, the answers to his many questions could wait a moment.

"I'm just gonna check on Fluffy first. The beast outside if you don't know," he said, getting up. "He's probably eager to see me and scared that I didn't survive. He's a bit of a worrywart."

Darryl inclined his body. "You do that. We'll gather Tris, wherever she is."

* * *

Roland sat on the grass in front of Fluffy. This was the first time he'd ever seen the dreadwing asleep, resting off his wounds. He probably needed it even more than the red dragon, after walking all the way here by himself, bleeding and in severe pain. Roland had always wanted to see his companion fall to sleep, but now that he was looking at it, the sight saddened him.

What Harper had done to him... That was something Roland could never forgive. And he knew he was a very accepting, forgiving person. He stood by his previous thoughts. There was no hope for Harper, and he had doubts the others disagreed.

Except maybe Tris. He wanted to know what she was going to do. If he was being honest, he felt she was far safer going with them. She couldn't trust the cheetah, either. Whatever Harper's horrible behaviour back in Firemore had done to her, though, could still be clouding her mind. She'd wanted him to come here, to be healed. Even Roland wouldn't have done that for him.

This was like Aurus. A terrible father. An awful person. Scum of the Realms.

This was just... no. He hated the sight of those bandages around Fluffy's gut even more than his own. Others could hurt him, sure. But nobody hurt his friends like that. Absolutely _nobody_. Especially not the companion he'd come to adore.

He wanted to leave Harper behind for good, but he couldn't do that until his dreadwing had rested up. Fluffy needed the break.

He was thankful at least for the small bed of cushions Darryl had made for the dreadwing underneath a small outdoor shelter, a corrugated sheet of iron held up by two wooden beams and the building behind it. Hearing about it made it seem like it had been a totally normal thing to do – he would've tried his best to make Fluffy comfortable and would've thought nothing of it – but seeing the dreadwing so comfortable simply laying on the ground beneath the shade rose his opinion of the deer, and it'd already been high to begin with.

He was so glad his friend was okay, though... So, so glad. That was all he cared about at that moment.

He thought about petting his beast, or even embracing him, but Roland didn't want to disturb his peaceful slumber. Fluffy needed all the rest he could get. He could properly thank the dreadwing for saving his hide later.

For now, however, he had questions he needed answered. He lifted himself from the ground and smiled at Fluffy.

"Thanks for everything, bud."

* * *

"So, Mr. Time Dragon, what can you do?"

Roland wasn't sure how to answer Kaya's question. Nothing? He had no clue how to do anything with the power he'd discovered. He was more determined to know where she got her information about him, though.

"How do you know I'm a time dragon first?" he asked, leaning forward atop the long couch. Kaya had looped herself around a large hook on the top of the wall, hanging like a stringy noodle. She eyed him from above, her front paws resting on her face.

"I'm an earth serpent. I _know_ you're a time dragon. I can feel it."

"Feel it?" He lifted a brow.

"Earth serpents, while not having access to the full potential of the elements themselves, are connected with them nonetheless, much like you," the goldhorn explained. "Dragons can feel the presence of magic if there's a large quantity, but Kaya's race can go far beyond that. They have more feeling for the magic than ability to use it. Kaya's probably felt all sorts of magic, but she must've gotten excited at the different feeling of your presence."

"Exactly!" Kaya looped more tightly around the hook, stretching out her body. "You're the one I've been waiting for. I had a feeling somebody like you was gonna come along someday!"

"Where do you come from, Kaya?" Ashlyn asked. She'd been interested in the earth serpent this whole time, always looking at her, studying her with keen eyes. The dragoness had an interest in the Everlost Forest, so it was no surprise to him when it came to the way she was eyeing her.

Kaya was all too happy to oblige. " _Deep_ underground. I never liked it there, though. I've always wanted to live up here, but we don't like putting ourselves in danger. This place is full of spooky monsters..."

"If you don't like puttin' yourself in danger, why the heck are you up here?" Myrtle asked, visibly entertained by the earth serpent.

"Oh, well..." She shrugged, or did whatever Roland thought was a shrug. A bit hard when she didn't look like she had any shoulders. "I'm fine with putting myself in danger. I _would_ live up here, but... we kinda need the caves. The gemstones deep under the forest keep us flying!"

Roland had been waiting to ask his own question, and after everyone went silent, he opened his mouth. "Why have you been waiting for me? What makes me special?"

"You're a TIME DRAGON," she repeated for the umpteenth time. "Of course you're special! Have you ever seen anybody like you?!"

"No, but... what makes _that_ special?" he elaborated. "I know I'm a time dragon. Tris told me that. But if I'm supposed to do something, I wanna know what that is."

"You're supposed to kick the purple dragon's butt!" she exclaimed. "You've gotta _claw_ him or _bite_ him or... Hmm, you do look a little on the small side, don't you?"

"I'm not kicking his butt," Roland said with some annoyance. "The purple dragon's my friend. Drevon's my _best_ friend, Kaya. Not like I could do that anyway. I can't just beat up a purple dragon."

"Well... Okay, I'm not totally, definitely, _exactly_ sure what you're supposed to do being a time dragon and all that," she admitted. "But my mum and dad have said stuff about what you could do and how you can stop the purple dragon and whatever. I dunno... maybe it's all a load of shit! But it got me excited!"

"Watch your manners, Kaya," the deer scolded. Kaya pouted in response. "We have guests."

"Aren't you a bit young to be swearing?" Roland smirked. Kaya gasped, totally offended.

"Young!?" she screamed. "I'm not young! I'm twelve years old! Double! Digits!"

"You're really not helpin' your case," Myrtle laughed.

"I am glad you can see the humour in this..." Darryl exhaled, as though losing his impatience. "But we have more pressing matters. Roland, you're a time dragon. That does indeed make you a special individual. Kaya, please... tell us about how long your race has known the wyverns."

"Oh, yeah, we go _way_ back," she said. "Thousands and thousands of years, before dragons and cheetahs and moles and everything else. Wyverns and serpents... We were the only sentient things on the planet. We lived in harmony, but those wyverns were big fat meanies, even though we worshipped them. They took all the elements for themselves and... w-well, we kind of all died out..."

"So, you're one of the last?" Ashlyn nodded to herself, eyeing her sympathetically. Roland couldn't imagine what it would be like, being one of the last of a rare species. "I'm... really sorry. Are there any others out there like you? You have a mum and a dad, right?"

"There... aren't too many of us. It's why my mum and dad don't like it when I come up here to see Darryl. They always get scared I'm gonna get eaten by some troll or something. I don't really listen to my family much, but they always seem to talk about how hard it is to have kids..."

"I'm sorry about that..." Tris finally spoke up. She'd been quiet and hadn't asked too many questions about the conversation Roland and the others had partaken in earlier. Roland knew she was far more focused on the events from before to give this much mind. She did at least seem to listen.

He'd have to talk to her later, see what she wanted to do after this, or if she was still thinking about it. He didn't want her feeling down because of all this, but she needed to make a decision. He hated to have to put her on the spot like that; he doubted he'd be able to choose in her situation, either.

"No, it's okay!" Kaya exclaimed. Seemed she'd accepted that fact long ago, of having not many of her own kin to turn to. "We earth serpents live for thousands of years. We keep growing and growing until we become really big, fluffy noodles. It's cool. You should see my parents."

Roland chuckled at her apt description. He could imagine a Kaya as long as this room. How much louder would she be?

"Anyhow, Roland," Darryl began. He shuffled atop his pillow. "You're a time dragon. This definitely changes things. Perhaps there is a brighter future after all."

"What am I changing?" he asked. His question hadn't exactly been answered before. What did 'kicking Drevon's butt' entail?

"You see," Darryl continued, "the curse of the wyverns is passed down from purple dragon to purple dragon. When one purple dragon dies, the curse disappears until it knows another has been born, and then it passes on. Death is certain, so the curse is going to live on forever. But what if the purple dragon was to _never_ meet his demise?"

"What are you getting at?" Roland tilted his head. Everybody leaned in, curious as to what Darryl's suggestions entailed.

"What I'm saying is the purple dragon needs to be sealed away. Forever. And the only way I think that is in any way conceivable is through a time crystal, the orange gems that you can summon."

"I don't even know how to control my powers," Roland said. "Every other time it's come out by itself was when something was about to blow up in my face, like those wyvern eggs."

"You don't know how to control it?" Kaya's ears shot up. "Well... I guess we need a trainer!"

"If you're saying I should train to be able to freeze the purple dragon in a chunk of crystal forever, you can forget it." He clenched his paws. "That's basically killing him. I don't want him dead. I want him _back_."

"I don't want Drevvy gone, either," Myrtle agreed. "I wanna know if there's a way to cure him. He's our friend. He was... really good to me. I wanna do the same for him."

"I don't know of another way to free him of the curse than through convincing his real self to take control again – even though that would only be a temporary fix – but with how much that darkness would've corrupted his mind by this point..." Darryl shook his head and peered at the dragons with sorrowed eyes. "I'm not certain if he can be brought back. It's a pity to say that it's most likely already too late."

"I am _going_ to find a way." Roland narrowed his determined gaze. "I've brought him out of it before. I can do it again. He'll listen to me. I'm sure of it."

"Ah, well..." Darryl sighed. "We can't ask of you anything you don't desire. If you can find a way without freezing Drevon inside a crystal, then I will believe in that. I'm just not certain if there's a way of going about that. But if you think you can find it, then by all means, search."

Darryl seemed doubting either way and that didn't make Roland feel any more confident in himself. But he would find a way. He had to. He wasn't going to seal his best friend away. He could never...

He didn't even know how to do that, so there was no point in exhausting himself over it. He could talk to Drevon when the time came. First off he had to find him. He could ponder his options when he arrived at that moment.

Kaya swirled through the air and then dropped down to the floor, a thin smile on her face, almost like she was trying to break the tension silencing them all but didn't know how.

"How does this curse work?" the blue dragoness spoke up. He was glad to hear a voice again. "I mean... h-how does it get passed onto the next purple dragon? What does it do to the purple dragon other than giving them extreme power in exchange for a lack of control?"

"It's kinda like its own living thing," Kaya explained. "Like a tick that gets in your fur, except this tick is special and has mind control. It's... very old magic. I don't know much about it. All I know is that those stupid wyverns made it. I don't even know why the serpents worshipped them in the first place..."

"Out of respect and fear, I'd say," Darryl told her. He lifted himself from his pillow on the ground. "If you passed by the Eldertree, you might be surprised to learn that that was once a place of worship for the wyverns constructed by the earth serpents. It was also where one of the monoliths was built. I would suspect the purple dragon has already been to that one, however..."

Darryl's knowledge gave Roland a great idea, one that would pertain to the plan he and Myrtle had formulated earlier. "Yeah, that's where the green wyvern was. And if you know about that one, does that mean you also know where we could find the others? If we can get to one before Drevon and stop him there..."

"Sadly, I do not." Darryl closed his eyes. "Not even the moles have found them all yet. There are three undiscovered if you don't count the one inside the Eldertree, because nobody but I and the earth serpents knew of its location. If the streaks I saw in the sky belonged to the wyverns, I suspect those left represent fire and electricity respectively. I do believe they're in the Dragon Realms somewhere, but wherever they are is unknown to all."

That bright spark flickered away, replaced by the cold black of disappointment. At least he could be happy in the fact that a lot of his questions had been answered this day. "I guess we've just gotta find them then. And I suppose if nobody knows where they are, that's gonna make it impossible to find anything about it in books..."

"If only the other serpents existed," Kaya chimed in. "Maybe you'd be able to find him, then. We only knew about the Eldertree..."

"Unless they are somewhere deep underground, I have no idea where I would search." Darryl exhaled. "Oh well. How about some lunch? I'm sure the five of you could use it. I do pride myself on my cooking..."

"If you're cookin', then count me in," Myrtle said. Roland wouldn't say no to that; he'd been peckish for something this whole time.

"Trust me, Darryl's cooking is the best thing about him," Kaya replied. "It's the only reason I keep coming back!"

"Very funny, Kaya." He noticed the deer grinning at the praise, though. Roland pondered how these two could've possibly met and become friends. They were total opposites of each other, one quiet and polite, the other loud and totally lacking manners. Maybe he'd ask at the dining table.

If his cooking was as great as his house, he could definitely say he was excited. He licked his chops and followed the goldhorn's lead into the kitchen.

* * *

Pressing the jug to his maw didn't do shit. No matter how much he tried, Roland could not summon water on the spot. Not even a dribble in the bottom was left; he'd consumed every last drop and his muzzle was still dry. He really didn't want to get out of bed and pad down to the river to fetch more, not this late at night. Not just because he was exhausted and lazy, but also because of those stairs. Those were some of the squeakiest steps he'd ever been on, and they'd surely awaken everyone if he went down. Of course, it had to be the ones near the top that made those noises, the ones closest to the other spare bedrooms.

But there was no helping it. He wasn't going to get to sleep like this. He rolled out of the doona with his paw wrapped around the handle of the jug and embraced the chill the sheets had warded away. Burdened eyes located the door at the other end of the bed and he stepped over, careful not to disturb his healing wounds.

He pushed the door open and crept through the hallway of doors. When he'd come up to head off to bed earlier, he'd thought about why the deer had so many rooms. He guessed it was just Darryl always coming prepared. Not that there had been enough rooms for them all, though. Ashlyn and Myrtle had rooms to themselves, but Tris had chosen to stay cooped up inside where Harper was resting.

He was supposed to talk to her earlier. After lunch, however, she'd retreated into those chambers. He was tempted to go and check on her, but Myrtle had suggested it was probably for the best if he gave her some space before he spoke with her. He was hesitant to back down, but he had a feeling that putting her on the spot like he was planning was probably just going to make her stress more.

He placed his paw on the timber railing leading down the set of stairs, his paw raised to take the first step, but he stopped. The quiet of night had been snapped in two. His keen ears picked up sounds like that without difficulty. But he had no idea what it had been. It hadn't been audible enough. He wasn't sure if he'd heard it or his exhausted head was jesting.

But then it came again and he was sure it was there. It was muffled, a voice from behind the door, the one he knew belonged to Tris. If it had been anyone else, he would've been confused. When it happened again, clearer this time, he knew he'd heard someone trying to suppress their crying.

His water would have to wait. He dropped the jug by her door and put his head up against the thin length of wood. He felt uncomfortable eavesdropping on her, but he couldn't ignore someone's sorrow.

Yet again, it came, Tristana's voice loud and clear. His heart ached at the noise. He hated hearing that. It was easy to tell what this was about. Once more, that temptation to speak to her came.

His paw floated around the door. Myrtle said she needed the space, but he couldn't just leave her there like that. He needed to _help_. He needed to make her feel better.

He nodded to himself and licked his muzzle. He tapped on the door, not too hard as to awaken the others, but enough for her to hear. Those muted sobs stopped within seconds. He heard shuffling from within.

"Wh-who is it?" Tris whispered from beyond her room.

"Roland," he answered quickly.

The door cracked open. Tris popped her head through and frowned at the sight of him, acting like she was confused why he was there.

"R-Roland?" she stammered. "What are you... Oh, who am I kidding? I-I guess you heard. These doors are thin. Sorry if I woke you up..."

"I was just out to get some water and I heard you. Is everything okay?" He sat in front of her. She appeared to be thinking about lying to him, but it seemed she knew her farce wouldn't make it past its birth.

"...No." She lowered her head and pushed the door open further. Her eyes shimmered in the candlelight flickering in her room. "C-can we... Can we take this inside? I don't want to wake the others up. I-I need someone to talk to. I need some advice. You're smart and you don't mind when I ramble, so..."

"Heh, _smart_." He adopted a goofy grin. She managed a warm smile back, though it was fleeting. "Sure."

She invited him in with a flick of her wing. The room was similar to his: a double bed taking up most of the space, a chest at its feet filled with paraneda herb, and a set of drawers by its side. An old wax candle with a polished brass base flickered with light, creating hulking, wavering shadows of himself and Tris across the walls and roof. On the other side of the bed was a basket of pillows, all of varying shades, probably where Tris slept. It took him a while to notice with his heavy eyes, but the cheetah's form was visible beneath the sheets, his face poking out of the top. He was almost motionless, each breath a mere whisper of air.

Tris glanced up at the cheetah, but her eyes fell quickly again. Guiltily, she pushed her claws together.

"I-I knew something was wrong when he told me to leave," Tris said. "He's... he's never been so angry with me before. I shouldn't have left... Should've stood my ground. Maybe I could've stopped this."

"Harper was mad at everyone," Roland answered. He looked over the cheetah. All he could see behind that peaceful face was suppressed fury, a lust for revenge. Every bit of him reeked of anger. "It wasn't just the whole thing with the troll. He'd built up these beliefs that me, Myrtle, and Ashlyn were his enemies. He suggested that I played a part in killing his son. I don't know if even you could've stopped him, Tris. He didn't really listen to you to begin with."

"...You're right." She sighed. "I just wish it didn't have to come to this. Maybe if we'd all communicated a little better..."

"Don't focus on the past or what we could've done. Shit happens. We've just gotta keep looking forward."

"And that's... kind of what I wanted your advice for," Tris said. She wiped a paw over her eyes and fixed her gaze on his. "I... I don't know what to do, Roland."

"What do you mean?" he asked.

Tris shrugged. "I-I don't feel safe around Harper anymore. After seeing him just _shoot_ at Myrtle, seeing you bleed on the ground next to him... I-I'm afraid he'll turn on us again when he wakes up. I feel like he'll... he'll actually try to kill me..."

"So you're debating whether or not you want to keep going with us?" he said. Tris nodded. "Me and the others haven't talked about it yet, but we're probably going to leave soon. Tomorrow, if I had to guess. That's when Darryl thinks Fluffy will wake up." He softened his eyes. "We... We can't keep going with him, Tris. Even I draw the line somewhere."

"I know you can't." The yellow dragoness looked up at the cheetah's face again. "And... I don't know if I should, either."

"What's stopping you?" He cocked his head. He had his assumptions, and they proved to be correct.

"He's my _dad_ ," Tris told him. "I love him unconditionally, e-even if he... hasn't been a great father. I can't just leave him after what I did to him. I feel like he's my responsibility now..."

"Don't blame yourself." He shook his head. "If you hadn't used your powers, I dunno if any of us would be standing here right now. You did a good thing. And by no means should you feel like you're responsible for him."

"I don't know, I..." Tris stopped, exhaling sharply through her nostrils. Roland placed a paw on her shoulder.

"You've gotta consider what's more important," he said. "Family or your own safety. I won't be angry at whatever you want to do, but... I am a bit biased towards the latter, Tris. He's unstable. He's _not_ safe to be around."

"Maybe... Maybe we can talk to him when he wakes up. If we can..." Tris stopped there, like she knew there was no point.

"It's up to you, but..." Roland stood up and spun towards her. He didn't want to make her choice for her, but he also didn't want her making the horrible one. "I really do think you should come with us. Even being around all the monsters is safer than being with him. And even if he doesn't turn on you, are you gonna be able to deal with the way he treats you? After this, I suspect it'd be even worse."

She was still for a while, but she eventually nodded. "You're right again."

"So... what are you gonna do?" Putting her on the spot was difficult for her, he knew, so he quickly added, "Unless you need time to think about it, of course."

"I… I think it's better if I go with you guys," she responded with another bow of her head. "It's safer, like you said. It's stupid to think he'll actually get better after what I witnessed..."

Roland smiled slightly. "Well, we'll be glad to you have you. I think the girls would miss you if you didn't come along. Especially Myrtle, but I doubt she'd actually admit it."

Tris let out a laugh at that, but she quickly covered her mouth with her paws, hoping she hadn't woken anyone up. She lowered her voice. "Trust me, I _know_ she would."

"She'd beat me to a pulp if she was here..." Roland whispered. "I better not say much more."

"You don't have to. It's obvious." She smirked. "...You can tell her she's not too bad herself, either."

"Myrtle's ugly, but sure." Roland winked. He paced towards the door, figuring things had been sorted out now. He grabbed the edge of the door, holding it open. "Need anything else?"

"I don't think so," she said. Even in the black, he could see that the tears had well and truly stopped by now. It made his smile grow. "Thanks, Roland. I'm... really glad you knocked. You're a good friend."

"It's nothing. Anyway, I'm dying of thirst, so I'll see you in the morning. Night, Tris."

"Goodnight, Roland." And with that said, Roland shut the door and let her head off to bed. He heard her settle down in her basket of colourful cushions for the night, and then silence reigned once more.

Everything was going to be good. They'd leave tomorrow and he could be happy with the answers he'd gotten. He had a few more questions still, but they could wait for tomorrow. Even if he'd gotten shot, things were definitely starting to look up.

Now he just had to find that purple dragon...


	26. Short Circuit

Short Circuit

Under the late morning sun, relishing in the warmth it provided on this cold winter day, stood Roland and his friends. Darryl came through the door and breathed a sigh of relief, preparations having finally finished.

"There is little more I can give you," he said. "You should be well-stocked for the whole trip to Warfang."

Words were something, but Darryl's actions made Roland feel horrible, like he was robbing the deer of every ounce of kindness he had left to spare. He couldn't believe how much assistance he'd been given by a stranger. They all had a map now, rations, spirit gems, and even copper to spend if they so desired. Darryl had given them _money_. Roland couldn't fathom this munificence, couldn't summon the words.

Not only because he was surprised by this kind gesture, though, but also because he was in the middle of giving Fluffy his attention with as many pets as he could. The dreadwing had awakened earlier in the morning and, as soon as Roland heard him scream out, he'd rocketed out of his seat in the living room and shot out the front door with no care for the waves of pain flowing through his sides or the fact he'd been conversing with Darryl and Kaya. Many a snuggle had happened there.

"I don't know what to say." Myrtle fiddled with her leather satchel's contents, feeling for everything held within. Her satchel looked too full, really, and Roland realised his did as well. The buckles were about to burst at the seams.

"You don't need to say a thing." Darryl gave a hearty laugh. "It is my pleasure. You've been some very good visitors. I've enjoyed having you all."

"I still wish we could give you something in return," Tris told him. "And not just a smile, either. You've been amazing, Darryl. I can't believe how much we've burdened you. You're... still okay with keeping Harper here, right?"

"That is still the plan, yes."

This problem had been a big part of Roland's conversation with Darryl and Kaya earlier in the morning. Shockingly enough, the deer's generosity even extended to the cheetah, to the point where Roland was sure this goldhorn was _too_ nice. The red dragon had done his best to argue with his decision, but the deer's polite nature kept him from reconsidering. Roland wasn't certain of his intentions... He couldn't care any less, though, if it meant getting away from Harper. He just didn't want this deer to get hurt because of him. After all the nice things he'd done, it was wrong to burden him so.

"Don't worry so much, guys," Kaya cut in. "Me and Darryl always find a way. _Always_."

"We have to keep him here anyway. I'm sure you wouldn't want us simply... throwing him into the woods." Darryl shook his head and chastised himself under his breath. "That's a ghastly thought, that one. I apologise."

Nobody was keen on that idea, either. Guilt for doing no more than thinking about that churned disgustingly in Roland's stomach. Vivid pictures of monsters tearing the cheetah apart came to mind. He wouldn't wish that upon the feline, definitely not.

"What do you plan to do with him, then?" Tris asked.

The worries still remained that something could happen to Darryl and his earth serpent friend. Roland couldn't live with himself, greedily snatching every drop of assistance he could squeeze into his paws, only to unintentionally stab Darryl and Kaya right in the back. The thought was sickening, to say the least.

"When he comes to, we'll send him on his way." Darryl smiled shortly. Roland, however, had other thoughts.

"What if he follows us?" he asked.

Darryl's mouth parted. "Um... Well, I don't believe I've thought of that. Hmmm..."

By that point, Roland was sure he and his group would be long gone, but those thoughts frightened him either way. What if Harper found them in the wilderness and shot them all? Roland was sure there wouldn't be a deer to help him back onto his feet at that point. He couldn't possibly be so fortunate again.

"If anything, I don't think he'll be up for a while," Darryl said. "You should have enough time to get away safely. Finding you in a city as ginormous as Warfang would be nigh impossible anyhow. But... Kaya and I can try to send him elsewhere. We can see if he'll listen to us. His drunken stupor was a cause of this. Perhaps he'll be willing to listen to reason as he awakens."

"W-what if he hurts you?" Tris questioned further. It clearly hurt her to say that. "I-I don't want to put you guys in danger."

"Truuuuust me, Tris. Darryl's, like, the supreme master of persuasion. He could talk a troll down!" Kaya curled up on a timber support beam. Roland didn't understand how that was in any way comfortable. "Couldn't you, Darryl?!"

"Um, perhaps not a _troll_." He chuckled at her praise. "But I'm sure I can talk to him. I have a feeling he'll listen. I'll even bet that he feels sorry for what happened."

"Uh..." Roland hated this line of logic. Darryl and Kaya were putting themselves in a bad situation for his and his friends' sakes. There wasn't much of a choice in the matter, though. The outcome wasn't a good one either way. He hoped good would come out of this. He chose to believe in the deer. If Darryl felt like he could do something about this mess, then so be it. There was nothing he could do to deter them from this path. "Okay. Just... stay safe, you two."

"We'll be fiiiiine." Kaya came down and gave him a soft noogie between his horns and frills, then perched herself on the railing. "You better stay safe, though, Roly. You never know... The world might need a time dragon."

He really hoped it didn't. He was sure he could bring Drevon back without those powers, without sealing him away for eternity. But what if he couldn't? Would he have to learn how to control them?

No, it wouldn't come to that. He was certain.

Tris wasn't looking too happy when he turned his head in her direction. He didn't need to wonder why. She knew this was the best thing to do, but she didn't want it to be. Her brave face was but a mask. She'd seemed much cheerier last night. Perhaps that was a lie, too.

"Surely we can do somethin' to repay you, though," Myrtle cut in, breaking the quiet. Her eyes were pleading, begging for something she could do to reimburse this kindness. "Do you want _anything_?"

Darryl shrugged. "Well... if it's no hassle for the four of you, I wouldn't mind your company again."

And receive more stuff in turn for that? That was barely a fair deal for the deer. But it didn't seem like there was anything Darryl needed, at least to Roland. He was at his happiest here, residing in the midst of nature, prospering in the peace. If Darryl didn't want anything more than company, even if it made Roland feel bad for not being able to give anything of value back, then so be it.

"We'll make sure we come back." Ashlyn put on a warm smile. "I-I don't think it'll be anytime soon, but we'll make sure. Maybe a longer visit next time."

"You're always welcome here. Now... Before you go, is there anything I've forgotten?"

"No... We can't carry anything else!" Roland exclaimed. Now he wanted to get out of here as quickly as he could, just so Darryl wouldn't gift them anything more.

"Hmmm, your satchels are a little full... Ah, I do think I have a solution. Give me a moment." Darryl bounced away on his hooves, back through the door again. Roland groaned inwardly and hung his head. He heard something along the lines of 'Kaya, I need your help' from the deer. Kaya followed him inside, and then the sounds of Darryl's hooves against the boards faded.

Roland looked between his friends, and everyone peered back at him. All of them were thinking the exact same thing. Nobody was sure what to say about this behaviour. Everyone had a grin, though, and Roland was happy to see that.

A minute passed and there was still no sign of the deer. Sick of the silence, Myrtle's voice came forth.

"So, Tris... You feelin' okay? You really sure you wanna leave Harper here?"

"I don't want to shove my problems on Darryl," she began, "but he thinks this is the right thing to do. I trust him. It's better for us if we don't go with Harper. And... yeah, I'm feeling fine now. I'm still a little dizzy from everything that's happened. Nothing to worry about, though."

"Just let me know if you need anything at all," the green dragoness continued.

Tris managed a snicker. "You don't have to be so concerned! The offer's adorable, but I'm fine, _really_."

Something about that word, 'adorable', made Myrtle tense up for a moment, but she relaxed the next second. Roland wanted to laugh at the exchange; he kept his cool, though.

"W-why do you even have this _thing_!?" Kaya squeaked from inside. Her back pushed the door open, a large, leathery object grasped in her tiny paws. She dragged with all her might, and Darryl did his best to force it forward with his hooves. "Why do you just... just take this _stuff_?"

"You never know when it may come in handy," Darryl replied, pushing the object down the porch's timber steps. "And it has just now. There we – ugh – go..."

"What is..." But Roland didn't have to question it for long. He recognised the shape seconds after he spoke: a large leather saddle, painted grey, marred by its age. There was some kind of harness attached to it, with several large floppy pockets tied up with buttons on a separate piece that connected to the saddle. Roland saw now where Darryl was going with his idea.

Roland eyed Fluffy. The dreadwing let out something akin to a 'huh.' Roland smirked at Darryl's genius.

Darryl patted the surface of the saddle. "This is a dreerkine saddle. Perhaps you've seen the large beasts leaders of our armies ride. It's very comfortable and fitted with a lot of storage to boot. This belonged to one of them, and I had a feeling it was about your dreadwing's size."

Roland and his friends stepped up to it. He'd seen that army of cheetahs beforehand when they'd entered the forest as well, and the leader of the group was riding on something similar to this. Had this belonged to them?

"Where did you get this?" Roland asked. "In fact... where do you get all of this stuff from? You live in the middle of nowhere. And I wouldn't expect a goldhorn to have so many spirit gems when you can't use them yourself."

"I'm a bit of a wanderer myself." Darryl sighed. "Many a life is lost to this forest. You might've heard stories of people not entering this forest much, but plenty of people come through here and simply don't return. Their tales are never told. I know it's not pleasant to think about, but many of these things belonged to people who lost their life here. I was surprised to find a dreerkine in these woods. Unfortunately, it had passed away, along with several other armoured cheetahs. I suspect they'd been attacked by some sort of monster. It wasn't a good sight."

Roland felt like he should've seen that explanation coming. And Darryl was right, that it wasn't a pleasant thought, carrying the belongings of the deceased. Each item in his satchel had some miserable tale attached to it.

It wasn't like those people needed the stuff, though. Darryl wasn't in the wrong for taking it. That stuff had saved the red dragon's life. Roland remembered back in Firemore, when he'd taken Garv's satchel...

He didn't want to think about that.

"I'm guessing that army was headed through here, on their way to Scaletooth," Darryl carried on. "With the recent uprising of the purple dragon, I guess it only makes sense. There's nothing a mere army can do against a purple dragon under the influence of dark aether, however. They can try their best, but such a feat would be unlikely. Impossible, even."

No, an army couldn't possibly destroy a purple dragon. Drevon had wiped the second greatest city off the map in an instant. What chance did an _army_ have against him? Not even the entire military of the Dragon Realms united could do anything. They couldn't do it before, when Malefor brought the world to its knees, and they certainly wouldn't be able to do it again with their numbers.

Roland knew it fell down to himself to stop Drevon. The purple dragon wouldn't listen to anybody else. Only he could break through the curse and bring him back to his senses.

No pressure, he told himself.

Darryl spoke up again, telling them all to help fit the saddle onto the dreadwing. It took a couple moments, especially with Fluffy shifting in discomfort every few seconds, but they managed it. And Roland had to say, it didn't look too bad on his companion. It fitted him nicely. The dreadwing angled his head, unsure what they were doing, but Roland didn't answer, only grinned.

After that, the deer gave one more deep bow.

"Anyhow, I suppose it's best you all head off. I've kept you long enough. I will have Kaya guide you to the edge of the forest, and then you can depart from there."

"Thanks again," Roland said. His friends expressed their gratitude as well.

"Alright! Road trip!" Kaya squealed in delight. "Let's go, everyone!"

"Goodbye!" they all uttered in unison. With all said and done, they left Darryl's home in the woods behind and followed Kaya into darkness.

Roland couldn't be any happier at the help. He'd never forget that deer.

* * *

As the trees dispersed and the canopy opened, revealing the afternoon sun, Roland and his companions came to a halt. Kaya curled around a branch and hung from her hind paws.

"And this is where I abandon you guys!" she exclaimed. It sounded needlessly nasty, but she clearly didn't mean any ill will.

Roland was finally able to lay down, happy that the walking had come to a close for now. He scooped a fistful of frost off the grass and bent his head up. Tiny particles of snow tickled his snout, filtering through the branches and leaves. The Everlost Forest didn't stretch much farther; winter proceeded unhindered, speckling the rolling plains with an unfamiliar white.

"Thank you, Kaya," Ashlyn said. "We all really appreciate it."

"Aww, it's nothing..." Kaya laughed softly. "You guys are _sooooo_ cool. Especially you, Myrtle. You're extra cool."

"You know it," Myrtle replied with a quick wink.

Kaya exhaled, shoving a paw into her pudgy cheek. "I wish I could go with you guys. I'd love to see the world! But... I need to get back to my parents. Stupid parents. Why can't I be a teenager like all of you?"

"It's dangerous out there," Tris remarked. "They only want to keep you safe."

"And so is the forest!" Kaya poked her tongue through her small muzzle.

"I... Well, yeah, I guess you have a point." Tris gave a short chuckle, totally defeated. "Maybe when you're older and we decide to come back. We might be able to go on an actual road trip."

"I'd _love that_!" the earth serpent screamed. "That would be so cool! We could go to Warfang, kick monster butt, we could–"

The rest was lost to Roland. Kaya's excited squealing was only made more incomprehensible by her rapid, slurred speech.

"Okay, okay!" Myrtle brought a paw up. Kaya's ears flattened against her skull and she uttered a low apology. "We should probably get movin', though. We've got a lotta ground to cover."

"Yeah... Darryl's making a cake anyway and I _definitely_ wanna be back for that, when it's all warm and stuff." Kaya leaped off the branch and did a loop in front of them all. If one thing was sure, she certainly had her priorities straight. "So, I guess I'll see you guys later. Have fun out there! Don't die, or I'll kill you!"

"We won't. See you later." Roland waved a wing. Kaya gracefully twirled her narrow body through the air and shot off into the woods. In the blink of an eye, she vanished into the black.

And now things were back to the way they were, minus a member. It'd only been around a day he'd known the goldhorn and the earth serpent, yet it felt so odd to be without them again. He'd grown used to Kaya's chatter and Darryl's bows and generosity, all in a matter of hours. If one thing was sure, after all this was over and he'd saved Drevon from the shadowy parasite corrupting his mind, he'd be certain he went back for a visit. It was what Darryl desired, after all.

But it was time they stopped standing around and got a move on. Like Myrtle said, there was a lot of ground to cover, and with Drevon awakening the Final Five, every second spent idling was a second wasted.

Roland swept the wet grass off his stomach and stretched his legs. "C'mon. We'll stop when the sun starts setting. We've got a fair way to go before we get to Warfang."

When he stepped from beneath the shade of the trees, the black abyss no longer looming above like dread, the sunlight met his scales and he rejoiced. He threw his head high, eyes closed, and breathed the scent of damp earth. Who cared if he looked stupid? He was glad to be somewhere other than that eerie blackness, where the sun warmed his scales and bit back the chill.

The pale plains turned yellow, dew sparkling like tiny diamonds in a field of gold. He and his friends followed a winding river, an offshoot of the great Edwin that flowed to Shimmervale, on foot. Roland was going to ask to fly so they could move quicker, but he remembered Myrtle's wings and decided against it. He was sure everyone else had noticed it by now as well. He only had to be next to her and his gaze would be caught by the unnatural gleam of her membrane, almost as if she'd polished the thin scales to perfection. When he saw the others sneak a glance at her, he felt like they were all thinking about it.

He was tempted to talk about it, but he knew it would make Myrtle upset and she'd try to play it off like it was nothing. No point doing it now. He chose to deliver his attention to the sparse trees and clouded skies instead.

"So, uh..." Myrtle seemed to take note of the looks she was receiving. "What's the plan now? What are we all doin'?"

"Once we get to Warfang, I won't be staying long," Roland said. "And I assume you're gonna come with me. I'm pretty sure Ashlyn wants to as well..."

"Y-yeah," Ashlyn replied. Roland was glad to hear it. He wouldn't mind her tagging along. He didn't want her to feel at all forced to, though, and she'd probably have to stay out of sight of the purple dragon. But he had beliefs things would go smoothly either way. He didn't like weighing up the bad outcomes. Better to focus on the good, he knew.

"I was kinda askin' Tris, honestly." Myrtle averted her eyes from Tris when she noticed she'd been staring.

Tris was silent for a few moments, and with a sigh, she shrugged. "I... I don't know. Harper and I were headed to Warfang and were probably going to rent out some place while we got settled in, but that's not happening anymore."

Roland didn't think she wanted to go with them to locate Drevon. Drevon wasn't one of her friends. She had no responsibility in this. It did, however, limit the options she had. "There's always the orphanage, Tris."

"Yeah, I can stay there while I gain my footing, but I'm sixteen. Most places let go of the kids at seventeen. It's my hatchday in around five months, and I don't really want to be living on the streets by the time that comes around..."

"You're good with electricity," Ashlyn told her. "I'm sure you could find something related to the generators. In a city as big as Warfang, it's good to have that backup electricity in case something happens to the gem power."

"Those barely paid anything back in Firemore. I doubt they'd be any different over there." She lowered her head, crescent-shaped tail blade dragging through the grass. "I can't afford to live with that kind of pay. I always relied on Harper for everything. Now I can't do anything..."

"Oh, c'mon, don't be like that," Myrtle said. "You're talented and smart. Believe in yourself a bit, Tris."

"She's right." Roland gave her a grin. "You're a bit of a blacksmith, too. That's a skill that's always in demand."

"And I'm sure it'll be much easier getting a job as an apprentice if you already have the skill," Ashlyn continued. "Considering the mines and a lot of the trading convoys are on the Warfang Plateau, you would be in the perfect place for it. I think they would instantly hire you."

"...Yeah, you're all right." She didn't seem much happier despite her answer. He couldn't blame her. Her thoughts were warring, sadness stirring. "Thanks... S-sorry, I mean. I should be more positive."

"Everything'll be alright, 'kay?" Myrtle waited for her to nod before she continued. "Anyways... What's the plan now, Roly? Darryl said nobody knows where those other monolith thingos are. Once we get to Warfang, which way are we goin'?"

He hadn't given it thought. Put on the spot to answer her question, one with a limitless number of variables, froze up his slack muzzle. How was he supposed to figure that out right now?

"I-I don't know," he stammered moments later. "I... I think we should wait until we get to Warfang before we decide. We can gather information there. Blindly heading in a random direction is just gonna waste the time we have to find him."

"True." The green dragoness bowed her head. "We'll find him, though. I'm sure he ain't _that_ hard to miss, especially with people out lookin' for him. Someone must've seen him by now."

"While you guys go out and _save the world_ , I'll just be in Warfang," Tris said, voice small. "It makes me feel... selfish."

Myrtle shook her head and gave her a smile. "We don't wanna whisk you up in our problems. Drevvy's not yours to deal with. Considerin' the chance we might not come back, it's understandable you wouldn't wanna go."

"Won't come back?" Tris seemed surprised for a moment, but acceptance dawned on her face the next.

Roland hadn't considered that thought much. The possibility wasn't something he wished to describe. There were far too many things that could go wrong, so many worries pricking at the back of his head like pinching claws.

He could do this, though. He had to. The responsibility of keeping this world safe from the Black Horror was no menial task, a responsibility he wished had fallen to someone other than him – what he wouldn't do to have his old, cheerful life back, the sewers, his friends, everything. But this was Drevon, his best friend, and he couldn't back down. He _wouldn't_ back down, not so easily.

"Yeah. Now I feel even worse," Tris continued. Myrtle frowned.

"Tris, you don't have to–"

"Just... leave it, _please_." And with that, she went silent. The other girls wanted to say more, clearly, but there was no further response from the two.

Roland really did pity her position. He couldn't wait for her to be ready to seek their help. He needed to help _now_.

"You really don't have to stress about it, Tris. I–" But his reply fell upon a deaf dragon. She breathed her sorrow out through her nostrils and quickened her pace. Roland held out a paw to reach for her, but she'd already moved on. He lowered his leg and just kept moving. Fluffy, who he largely forgot had even been there, brought him in closer, pressing his bandaged side against the red dragon. The dreadwing felt it too, Tristana's misery, and the things she'd been dragged through.

The other two looked at him as though he'd made a foolish error. He knew he had. Maybe it was better he stopped speaking up...

Why did things always have to be going wrong for him? What was coming next?

"Sorry," Roland uttered lowly, but it was heard by nobody. He diverted his attention elsewhere. He found entertainment in watching fish flail in the river.

Hours later, he climbed a set of wooden steps before him, onto a small bridge crossing a T in the stream, and stood on his hind legs, peering over the side of the timber railing. River creatures leaped from the surface of the water, snatching up tiny water striders in their gullets, before disappearing without so much as a ripple. Roland looked further ahead, eyes wandering across the stream. It flowed far away, past Shimmervale, the city inhabited solely by dragonkind. It was days and days away, and he wasn't sure if they'd actually stop there. He wasn't sure how comfortable he felt being in a city banned for most of the world, in a city with laws as peculiar as that. Revolutions were what they were, though.

"Roland?" Ashlyn called after him.

"Yeah, coming." He dropped onto all fours. They could think about it when they got to that point. They were doing well on supplies for the moment, stored in the deep pockets of Fluffy's new saddle. If they were desperate for something...

He really didn't like the sound of that city, though.

He shook his head. No point thinking about it now. Later on.

For now, he moved on. That was all he could do.

* * *

They came to a stop as the sun was swallowed by the distant ocean. Roland's scales shone like fireflies, thick tendrils of golden grass brushing against his hide. The plains lit up like a sea of pale fire beneath the sunset, and the light snowfall began to pick up; the stone roof over his head protected him from the brunt of it, whatever else coating Fluffy's hairy pelt from outside, blocking up most of the entrance to the tiny depression in the hill. He rubbed his paws together over the fire, this one started through matches, not the yellow dragoness' lightning.

Nobody had wanted to ask her to do anything. They wanted to keep her away from such responsibilities, give her some space to think. After what Roland had experienced before, he agreed. Better to leave her to her own devices now. Words weren't helping her cope.

She brooded away from them. Without her to start a conversation between everyone, there was everlasting silence. Myrtle didn't want to talk to Ashlyn. Ashlyn was too afraid to talk to Myrtle. And Roland had too much on his mind to want to speak at all. He felt like Tris, in a way.

So much was happening. He found it difficult to focus. He had a headache. His stomach hurt. He felt so _stressed_.

At once, he got to his feet and said, "I'm gonna get some fresh air."

He received a couple looks, but other than Fluffy, who whined after him, nobody paid him much mind. They probably felt the same, too. All of this wyvern bullshit, the tension, this... _everything_. It was hard for them all. No child should've ever had to experience this.

That was what he got for being friends with the purple dragon...

He hated thinking that as soon as he did. Guilt pooled with his stress. Stupid, he told himself. You're an idiot.

Roland stopped standing around and made his exit after telling Fluffy to not follow him – as always, the monster wanted to object, but he hearkened either way. He pulled his dirtied scarf taut and walked around the side of the cavern, up the slope that spiralled around the hill. He took a seat at the top, facing the radiant half-sun. Longingly, he gave a sigh.

He would've enjoyed being a thief forever. Now he was supposed to be some kind of hero, like the one in his stories. Why couldn't he stay positive in the face of destruction? Why couldn't he make sarcastic, witty remarks despite it all?

Probably because his characters were unrealistic... If only he could be like her. If only he could keep everyone positive in spite of their ruined lives. Maybe his goals were too far-fetched.

He never used to feel like this. He could hardly describe his feelings. Like a bubbly mixture of anger, grief, guilt, and sadness. He tried to be optimistic and helpful to everyone, but it felt so hard sometimes. His positivity never seemed to go anywhere but making things worse.

What was the point in all this? What was he doing again?

"...Getting to Drevon," he murmured to himself. "I need to stay positive so I can get to Drevon. I need to stop this from holding me back. I can help him."

And what if he couldn't? What if his actions were meaningless, like they had been in Firemore? Like they had been in Midrun? In the Eldertree?

His mind was awash with conflicting thoughts and he knew he needed to leave them behind before he made himself upset. He needed a distraction. What needed doing now?

Roland's stomach gave him a good answer: a humble groan, a desire for prey. They'd only just settled down here for today, so hunting and scavenging sounded like a good plan at the moment. Just who would he ask to go with him, though? Nobody had seemed in the mood for anything. He was tempted to go out by himself and tell nobody, surprise them all with a meal later. Maybe that'd make everyone happy. Something physical, something of value, was better than his honeyed words.

His prayers were answered minutes later, coincidentally, by a yellow figure pacing up the hill to greet him. Tris' movement stirred his attention and he creased his brow. She'd finally shifted from her position, broken her quiet.

"Do you want to go hunting?" she asked. She seemed oddly tired now that he was looking at her front, her eyes dark and baggy. Had she slept last night? "I know it's chilly, especially for you, and you're sort of bandaged up at the moment, but – you know – I figured maybe we could both do with a distraction. Everything's a bit... _blah_ right now. For all of us."

Huh. He really was feeling like her, then. "I was just about to go and do it myself and treat you all, but yeah, I'm down. Do the others know?"

"Yep." She motioned with her wing. "Let's go. The longer we sit here, the less time we'll have."

Unfortunately, hunting didn't do much to distract him. Tris wasn't talkative – she seemed afraid to say anything, actually – and the wildlife was too sparse to keep his focus for long, a result of animals beginning to hibernate. The carcasses of two winter rodents they'd found asleep were clutched between his claws, but other than that, their hunting trip had been unsuccessful so far. Two rats wasn't enough to feed them all, especially not Fluffy. That wasn't to say they were going hungry if they couldn't find anything; there were plenty of rations to divide, jerky and other non-perishables shoved into Fluffy's pockets.

Roland found his mind wandering back to his thoughts again and again. He tried to shake his head free of them, but nothing would work. He needed something else, something to say to Tris...

An apology was probably in order.

"Sorry about earlier, Tris," he mustered. His voice was sudden and it made her jump slightly; the only noise had been the sounds of their feet rustling in the grass and crunching against fresh ice.

"N-no, I shouldn't have ignored you. You were just concer–"

"I have a problem with keeping my trap shut." He shook his head. She wasn't to blame for anything. "I need to learn to wait until people are ready to talk. I hate seeing people so down. It's in my blood to want to help as soon as I can. But sometimes that help just... isn't helpful."

She peered down into the yellowed, glistening blades, then back at him again. "You have good intentions at least. You're not such a bad person for a thief."

"Well, I mean–"

"You're cool, Roland." She smirked. "It hasn't been long, but I like you. You're a good friend. Don't forget that."

He enjoyed hearing that. He was in the clear then. Better to focus on improving himself now.

Tris looked ahead again, down the steep hill they stood atop. "You're all good people, and – wait, is that a..."

He frowned and turned away from her to study what she'd seen. He squinted into the sunset; a body laced with red feathers glowed beneath the orange. The creature clawed at bushes with white, bony appendages, then snapped at them with its golden beak. It reminded him a little of Fluffy; it had the same kind of body structure, the hulking back and the low crouch, and that fierce gaze.

"Get down," Tris hissed. He quickly crouched behind the cover they had, a thin slice of rock protruding from the top of the hill.

"What is that?" he asked. "I've never seen anything like it."

"I might be wrong... but I think that's a skurvywing." Skurvywing? Sounded like it belong to pirates... He knew of the _sky_ pirates, the Skavengers, vicious hounds that captured creatures and forced people to fight each other in arena combat for entertainment, but that old tradition of the dogs had died out long ago with their unreliable airships. Maybe they had named them that. He didn't think his guess was far off. "This is the time they come out. They hunt in winter, looking for creatures in hibernation, and if they can't do that, they eat bugs, like this one is now. They're really dangerous. I've heard the adults can spew fire."

"And... what are we gonna do about it?" Roland asked. The sound of it didn't entice him. He looked at it again – it had its large, hooked beak buried in the bushes, probably searching for grubs – then back at Tris. The thing was as big as Myrtle. He turned around back to the yellow dragoness. Then he saw the smirk on Tristana's face. "You're not actually gonna suggest we–"

"Why not?" Her smile grew. "It's not fully grown. It's only a kid. I'm sure _we_ can take it on."

He gave it another look. Knowing it wouldn't set his scales alight made him feel a bit better about it. Only the adults did that. They could probably take it on... Tris could strike it with lightning and end its pitiful existence in moments.

"You know what? Let's do it." He nodded in agreement. Tris was happy to hear that.

"Stay next to me. We'll keep to the rocks going down the hill." She directed his eyes with her talon. The stones and high grass would provide their shield from its savage eyes. "We'll need to be quick. Once we get close... Bam! I'll strike it with my lightning. And if I can only paralyse it, you jump in for the kill. I'm certain my electricity will suffice, though."

"I'll leave these here then." He dropped the rat corpses next to their cover and stretched out his limbs. This was going to be entertaining. He couldn't wait to taste this ugly bird. If it was anything like he was imagining... His mouth watered at the thought of roasted bird. "Let's do this. I'll follow you."

Tris crouched in the grass and pressed her wings to her sides, the yellow and creamy white of her scales blending with the golden grass. She peered towards the skurvywing and gestured the red dragon forwards when it wasn't looking at them. The pair moved swiftly, enthusiastically. He was happy seeing her excited again. It'd been a while since those colours of hers had shown.

They slithered through the fields like a den of snakes. Roland lowered his breath, getting onto his elbows as they approached. He crouched behind the rocks. He was as nervous as he was exhilarated. The thrill of the hunt. Feral instincts called to him. Something was telling him to let the creature go, however, a feeling not unlike dread, but he pushed that far into the back of his mind. Tris had a smile on her face. He should've had one, too. He forced it on.

They ducked before a low tree, close to the monster. He could hear its thick, throaty breath, smell the sopping feathers lining its thick body. It'd taken a bath recently. Without a dry wingspan, it wasn't getting away from them.

Tris motioned for them both to stop, metres from the creature. It lifted its head from the bushes, angular pupils darting about. Tris stood stiff. Roland lifted his tail blade in anticipation.

"Go to that rock," she whispered commands. "On three, I'll yell out and get its attention. Jump at it and latch onto its neck as soon as I give the signal. I'll have fired off my lightning."

Roland gave a nod of confirmation. Using the skills he'd learned from thievery to his advantage, he scurried through the grass, a blur of blood-red shooting across the plains.

He gripped the stone and poked his head out from beyond, watching Tris' camouflaged form. She lifted a paw, and then one toe. Another went up. Two. He breathed out, tensing up his legs.

And then three. Tris shot out of the grass, flapping her wings, screaming out. The skurvywing predictably turned around and gave a screech, and as soon as its eyes were on her, Roland jumped forward with his jaw unlatched. His fangs sank into flesh, the back of its neck, and he started wrestling it with as much might as he could muster.

It all crumbled when Roland realised Tris hadn't used her magic, realised she was only flapping, mouth agape, eyes wide. His distraction cost him everything.

The oversized bird shook him off and stepped on his form. He wheezed as hot pain shot through his stomach, talons tearing bandages and scales alike. Panic flooded his mind. He was outmatched.

"T-Tris!" he called weakly. It was all he could manage. The skurvywing, screeching and furious, stabbed and raked at his body. He felt blood trickling over everything. He tried to defend himself with his legs, but he couldn't block every fierce swipe. He tossed around, struggling to get away. It aimed for his eyes next.

One talon caught his scarred eye, opening the previous wound. Blood stained his face; he screamed out for help again.

As soon as he did, the raking halted, as did the shrieking. There was an audible, squelchy _thump_. He couldn't see what was going on. Everything was as red as his blood. The hefty form above him settled, landing on top of him.

"Roland!" Tris yelled. Something gripped his paws and dragged him from beneath the skurvywing. He wondered what in the world was happening. Everything stung, like he'd been pierced all over.

He lifted his head and felt a paw wipe over his eyes. Suddenly his vision came back. As he opened his right eye, closed of its own accord, he shut it tight without hesitation. It hurt like hell.

"Fuck..." He gripped his face. His paw was saturated with his own blood. He felt his scales peeling, everywhere the monster had sliced him open. "T-T-Tris?"

"Crap! Crap, crap _crap_!" She shook her head back and forth, over and over, her eyes teary. He could see her properly now with his left eye, but the one that had been scarred back in Firemore was impossible to open again.

"What happened!?" he shouted. He winced as he tried to move his body. "Sh-shit. It hurts..."

"No, no, no..."

Roland looked around him, searching for the beast. He wasn't prepared to see it in the condition it was. Blood pooled where its neck was. He couldn't see its head.

As he started to regain his senses, he turned back to her. "T-Tris? Are you okay?"

"Are you!?" she screamed back.

Roland managed to stand, his legs quivering. He looked down at himself, saw all the torn scales, and almost retched at the sight of his chest and legs. He was covered in scrapes and scratches, all red and wet with blood. He chose not to give them his attention and instead reached for her with a paw.

"Y-yeah... What happened? Why didn't you–"

"I-I-I don't know what came over me!" She put a paw to her head. She was hyperventilating, a tear trickling down her cheek. "Ancestors... I'm so sorry, Roland! H-how could I..."

He clenched his paws. He wanted to feel mad, infuriated by her lack of action, but when he saw her face, he couldn't bring himself to be. Something had happened to her before she'd been able to fire off her lightning...

"Tris..."

She averted her eyes. "I-I'm so stupid! I'm horrible! I–"

"Tris!" he yelled at her. Her attention snapped back to him. He wrapped a paw around her front leg. His breath quivered and he cringed at the stinging coursing all over his body. It had calmed down a bit, at least. He could focus on her now. "D-did something happen? Why didn't you use your magic like we planned?"

"I... I couldn't!" she exclaimed. Her words grew quicker by the second. "I-I tried to, b-but I couldn't! Are you okay? You're bleeding all over! I–"

" _Calm. Down._ " He squeezed her leg. "Breathe. Focus on your breathing."

"R–"

"Just _breathe_ ," he intervened before she could get another word out. "I'm fine. Focus on yourself. Everything's okay."

She did as she was told. He tried to cover his scrapes and scratches up so she wouldn't keep panicking over those, and attempted to stand in front of the skurvywing so she didn't have to focus on the mutilated corpse. She gazed at the grass, watched its subtle sway in the breeze, and then closed her tearful eyes.

As her breath slowed and her body relaxed, she looked at him again. He gave her a short smile, despite the pain.

"You okay?" he asked.

"W-why are you asking me if I'm okay? You're the one b-bleeding all over. I-I let you just..."

Like before, he realised asking about what happened was probably something done better at a later time. He didn't want her to start panicking again like she had. "Don't worry. We'll get back and – ugh – t-treat this. I'm fine now."

"I'm... so sorry." She couldn't look him in the eyes at all anymore. "How could I let this happen? I can't believe I couldn't... Why didn't I..."

"Don't worry about it. I'm okay." He let go of her and then grabbed hold of his eye again, applying pressure. If anything hurt the most, it was his eyes. A spirit gem or two was in order, and definitely a bath so all these cuts didn't get horribly infected. "Let's get back. I'll help you bring the bird back. It's not a far walk."

"...Alright," she agreed. Silence consumed them. He tore off his mangled bandages and threw them to the grass, then clutched the headless bird. Tris helped him start dragging it back.

What had happened to her? Why hadn't she gone along with the plan?


	27. Penitent One

Penitent One

"Holy, what is – wait, what the fuck happened to _you_!?" Myrtle exclaimed as Roland and Tris set the skurvywing and the two rodents down in front of her. He flashed her a smile as he stepped inside the cave again, but retracted it as he recoiled in pain.

"G-got in a bit of trouble," he responded. An overwrought Fluffy rushed up to him and wouldn't leave him be. Roland tried to give him a pet to tell him he was fine, but Fluffy wasn't having any of it. The dreadwing whimpered and cried at the sight of him. Was his face really that bad? Myrtle's horrified stare all but confirmed that. "S-spirit gems, Myrtle. Where are they?"

"R-right." She drew her eyes away from him and dug into the dreadwing's pockets. She drew out two shimmering gemstones as Tris walked past them. Myrtle watched as she sat in the darkest part of the cave. She opened her maw, seeing those tear-stained cheeks of hers, those bloodshot eyes, but she deemed Roland's bloody injuries a more pressing matter than to ask Tris about the problem she was facing. The green dragoness handed Roland the gemstones and he proceeded to crush them under his feet.

Instant relief surged through him. The burning, stinging, stabbing, all stopped at once. The blood dried and caked on his face, and every mark and slice sealed up, threaded and stitched together with magic. He still didn't dare open his eye. It was the only part of him that still throbbed with pain.

"We need to clean you up. We're goin' to the river. Don't want those cuts infected."

"I can take myself to the–"

He yelped as she suddenly grasped his leg and dragged him along. Fluffy, of course, followed, helping to push the red dragon along.

Myrtle shoved him into the shallow water and he landed on his face. He coughed and spat freezing water everywhere. She rummaged through her satchel and pulled a cloth out, one of Darryl's many gifts, and then jumped in with him.

"Ancestors, Roly..." He blinked his eye open, only to find a damp cloth over it. In spite of her almost aggressive need to clean him up, she was shockingly gentle now with the way she rubbed his face. If not for the pain-killing magic of spirit gems, it would've burned and stung like frenzied wasps. "What the _heck_ happened back there? What in Iggy's balls is that thing?!"

"Iggy's... _balls_?" He cracked up at that new one. "Who's Iggy?"

"Ignitus, you dork." That... made no sense at all, but he was too preoccupied with the scrubbing to give a damn. He spat out a mouthful of cloth as it drifted over his muzzle. "Answer my damn question."

"A skurvywing," he answered. He was surprised at the harshness of her voice when she spoke. Almost like she was anxious over him. Where had this weird mother-like care come from? "Big bird. Very vicious. We thought we could take it on – I mean, we _did_ manage to take it on. It just didn't end very well for anyone."

"Clearly!" she said, agitated. Roland knitted his brow.

"Why are you so worried?" he questioned. "I've never seen you act like this before."

"And I've never seen you with _blood absolutely everywhere_ before!" she snapped. She had a point. "How do you fuckin' expect me to to act, Roland? Happy that my friend looks like he's gone through a meat grinder? Do you think I shouldn't care when it looks like somebody's ripped you up with a knife? Do you–"

"Okay, okay, I get it." He laughed momentarily. Her expression was abound with alarm, but she still broke through that with amusement plastered to her face. She was probably thinking about her meat grinder comment.

"Alright... There." She had finished washing his torn scales. She squeezed the rag out, the blood and water flowing away, then turned towards the dreadwing. "Hey, Fluffball. Take this rag back and put it next to the fire."

"I'm not sure if he'll listen to y–" Roland cut himself off when Fluffy followed her commands. He padded away with the cloth flapping in his jaws, leaving the two dragons alone in the river. Maybe he thought he was helping to heal the red dragon by doing this. "Well, colour me impressed."

"He's actually pretty damn smart," Myrtle said. Roland realised she hadn't called Fluffy an 'it', like he wasn't some kind of monster to her anymore. "And if he was a person, he'd be a good one of those, too."

"What made you change your mind? Last I remember, you didn't like him."

"After what he did back in the forest, I realised he wasn't so bad after all." Myrtle clambered out of the river. She held out her paw for Roland and he gratefully took it. He was hoisted back up the steep incline. Roland quivered, shaking the water from his attenuated frame. "He might be a big, disgusting, drooling monster, but he basically saved your life. He _knew_ you were in trouble when Harper pulled that gun on you somehow. Me and him had a little chat while we were walking to Darryl's house – he carried you there, by the way, in spite of everythin' that happened to him – and I think we're both on good terms now. He's a good dog. I gave him a few pets and he likes me."

That was pleasant to hear. Something nice had come out of today, at least. He peered into the water, observing his faded cuts. They probably wouldn't scar, but right now they were _especially_ ugly. Roland had never been a looker, but he certainly wasn't now. He looked like he'd gone to war.

"I just wish I knew how his brain worked," Roland uttered. "He only listened to keywords before. Now it's like he can comprehend every sentence I say. He's getting smarter everyday."

"I dunno. Maybe that's how shadowspawn work." Myrtle shrugged. "That's not to worry about right now, though... What happened to Tris? I know you're all cut up, but was she hurt, too? She didn't seem like she was in pain..."

"Something happened to her back there, when we were fighting the skurvywing." He crouched on the bank, giving his wings a couple flaps. He could go for a flight about now, but there were other more pressing issues. "She didn't use her lightning. She _couldn't_ use it for some reason. She was about to fire, and then she just went still. If that hadn't happened, I wouldn't have been scratched. She's probably blaming herself for what happened to me right now."

"Maybe her magic fizzled in her throat? Happens to me on occasion. Wouldn't think it'd happen to someone like her, though. She knows how to be efficient with her mana."

"Who knows?" He shrugged. "We should probably go and see if she's fine. We shouldn't press the matter, though. She looked like she was on the verge of a panic attack before..."

Myrtle gave a slight nod. "I'll just ask if she's doin' okay, tread lightly around the issue. She doesn't need us remindin' her of what happened. And we should probably bandage you up again, too. It'll help keep those bigger cuts that didn't seal well clean. Probably could use another gem, too..."

"I hope I don't end up covered in scars..." Not that he cared about his appearance much, but he would've felt pretty disgusting either way. The slash through his eye didn't suit his thin, more delicate features, especially now that it'd been reopened and reddened by that brazenly barbarous bird.

"I'll still love ya either way." She chuckled. "C'mon. Let's go and deal with your bandages and Tris."

Roland ducked his head beneath the low ceiling, moving past the bird, giving Fluffy a little chin scratch as he moved inside. Tris sat motionless, toes clenched around the stringy turf; she eyed them as they trod inside, but soon lowered her head again, returning to her depressive staring. With a look around the room, he realised Ashlyn was missing. He wasn't able to muster a frown before Myrtle spoke up, though.

"She went out to gather veggies fifteen minutes ago. Dunno when she'll be back. Shouldn't be long."

He shrugged, resting his sore body against the arching wall of the hollow. Myrtle fished a roll of thick dressing and another spirit gem from Fluffy's pockets and took a seat in front of Roland. She asked him to lean forward so she could take care of his leg after applying the scarlet crystal.

She kept her gaze on him, but her focus was directed elsewhere. "Doin' okay, Tris?"

"...I-I'm fine." The yellow dragon's voice wouldn't rise above a mumble. She watched Roland's wounds in intense scrutiny.

"Do you wanna talk about it?" Myrtle continued, knowing that had been a lie. Walking into the cave crying wouldn't help Tris' case.

"No," was her uneven but quick reply. Myrtle was transparently disappointed.

"Okie dokie. We're both here if you need us, though. I'm always willin' to lend my ear." After she finished wrapping up the stinging gash on his leg, Myrtle gestured him upwards and twined the dressing around his stomach to close up the older wounds from Harper's gunfire. He saw Tris take a peek at him through the corner of her eye, but she pretended she hadn't been clocking his injuries when he noted that.

After Myrtle was done with his stomach, she knotted the bandages so they wouldn't unravel and then sat on her hind legs, admiring her handiwork.

"I'd wrap up your eye as well, but it should be okay. The spirit gems healed it up good. It'd also look stupid. I mean, unless you want to be more of a mummy than you already are."

Roland snickered at the comment. Myrtle turned to Tris, as if foreseeing a reaction from her also, but there was none, only her silence to listen to. The green dragoness acted like she hadn't expected anything and spun around, towards the bird, dissembling her true feelings.

"Guess we should get dinner on. It's gettin' late. That bird's gonna be a big meal for all of us. Nice change from piggle, honestly."

After plucking the crimson feathers from the bird and giving Fluffy his raw portion first because of his distaste for anything cooked – the dreadwing relished in the taste of the lingering elements he'd devoured – they sliced the skurvywing into sizeable chunks and fried it over their campfire. Myrtle pulled a vial of something Darryl had called 'secret spicy sauce' from her satchel, a flavourful combination of garlic, pepper, and general herbs he'd used in their lunch the day before, and drizzled it over the top. For lack of a better term, the scent was to die for, and the sizzle of flesh over the pan made his mouth water. It almost made receiving all those scratches and grazes worth it.

 _Almost_.

Roland was still worried about Tris. She joined them for dinner, but she was as silent as ever. He wanted to help, but knew his words would just make her more upset. He didn't want to make her feel guilty for not saying anything. She was already in a bad mood as it was. She was best left to chat when she was ready.

When they began feasting on their dinner an hour later – Roland had to admit it was some of the best bird he'd ever eaten – he once again noticed the lack of his blue friend. Collecting vegetables shouldn't have taken this long. And they were already eating... Where in the Realms was she?

Had something happened to her, like him? Ashlyn knew how to defend herself better than him, but what if...

He lay his half-eaten dinner in the grass and looked outside. "Where is she?"

"Not back yet," Myrtle answered. _No_ , Myrtle, she was sitting there with them _right now_... "She's too late. Could've used those veggies. Dinner's gonna be cold when she gets here."

"I... think I'm gonna look for her." He stepped outside the hole in the hill. Myrtle dropped her portion of bird and her eyes widened.

"In your condition? I think I should go with you if you're–"

"Don't worry. I'm fine. I can fly," he said. He lowered his voice and spoke into her ear, glancing at the yellow dragoness, who prodded at the large segment she had left. "Plus... Tris needs somebody right now. We can't leave her alone. You're a good friend. Keep her company."

Myrtle sighed, relenting her troubled expression. "Fine. But be careful out there. I don't wanna have to put you back together again when you're torn apart by another bird." She pointed a claw in the direction Ashlyn went, straight ahead from their hole in the hill. "She went that way. She couldn't have gone that far. Just search around our area."

"See you soon." He took a running start and leaped into the air. It'd been a while since he'd flown – it took him a few seconds to get the hang of what was supposed to be second-nature. The wind wafted over his scales, through his wingspan. He shot towards the lowering sun, in search of his friend, gliding through the light snowfall.

* * *

Five minutes in the air and still no sign of her. He'd flown a large circle around their encampment, but she was nowhere to be found. He'd thought it would be easy trying to spot a shiny blue dragoness amongst yellowed blades. He decided to search out further and first headed forwards. His eyes were set on the golden sunset, dotted with deep, fluffy greys.

He scanned the ground. It rushed by in a blur, creating the illusion of an ocean, rolling over and over like high waves. His heart tightened in his chest when he still couldn't see her. Where was she? It didn't take this long to collect vegetables.

He really hoped something hadn't happened to her. That she hadn't been attacked. He wasn't going to believe she'd been so easily slaughtered by something out there. That just seemed... so unbelievable for some reason.

Had she run away from them?

No, she'd always been saying she was indebted to him. If there was one thing he could like about that, it was that he knew she wouldn't leave his side, that she'd always have his back.

What if Myrtle had said something, though?

He shook his head and focused on the task. He could get sidetracked on the details later. He had a dragoness to locate. He put a paw to his forehead, shading his eyes from the bright ball of white obscuring his vision.

He looked ahead, his eyes catching something, but it wasn't her. He gazed elsewhere, but soon enough turned back towards the thing he'd seen. It was grey, like those distant clouds, but not as deep a hue. And it seemed to move quicker than the clouds, too. It was headed upwards, and dissipated as it got higher.

That was smoke. A campfire?

That couldn't be her, right? This wasn't far from their camp. She could've just taken the short flight. And if something had happened to her wings, it wasn't a far walk either...

He thought about leaving it be, knowing it probably belonged to someone else, but other people intrigued him anyway. It was the best lead he had at the moment. Maybe they'd seen her pass by if she'd headed in this direction, like Myrtle said.

He soared over the sharp rocks and planted his feet on the ground overlooking the base of the cliff these people had settled in. A camp had been set up there, two large creamy-white tents fit for four dragons tied to the rocks by a blazing balefire, next to a clean pond of water. It seemed more permanent than his camp, made for a longer stay. Perhaps these people had come out for a trip into the wilderness for a few nights. A bit strange, if you asked him. These wilds were too dangerous for leisurely camping... Maybe the people in question just liked comfort.

He didn't see anyone down there, but they were probably in the tents. He decided he'd head down and greet them. He hoped they were friendly.

He stopped very quickly. With a little more looking, he saw a glint of blue scales behind a large rock, and then the eyes of the body staring right back at him. Ashlyn's blue eyes.

What was she doing down there?

He had to squint to see her, but she seemed to raise a paw, as if to gesture him over, and then she put a claw to her muzzle. 'Come quietly' was what she'd signed. Something was interesting about these people, then. Something had caught her eye.

Something was... _wrong_.

He crouched low and jogged down the hill, keeping to the cover he had available, the long grass and protruding stones. The people hadn't come out yet, but he wasn't taking any chances with them if Ashlyn told him to come silently. Ashlyn followed him with her eyes. As he got closer, he saw her expression, a fretful one. Her feet were quivering. He joined her behind the rock, and she looked relieved he'd come along to find her.

He had many questions and he started with the most obvious in a silent murmur. "What are you doing down here, Ash?"

"I know these people," she said, shivering with anxiety. "I-I know the green one, Roland. Th-th-these are the Guardians. The Guardians of Warfang."

"Huh?" He had to think for a moment to remember what she'd said about the earth Guardian and her father. Everything clicked then and he remembered that these weren't good people. These were the people who'd wanted Carolin dead. These were the people that'd destroyed Firemore. These were the people that had stolen his life from him.

These were the Guardians that had corrupted Drevon.

"Oh..." That was all he could manage out of his muzzle. Why had they done all this? A flurry of questions shot through his mind. "H-how did you find them? Why are they here?"

"I was just looking for vegetables and I noticed the emblem of Warfang on these tents." It was true. A red circle had been painted on either side of the triangular roof, a dragon sketched within. If he wasn't mistaken, it was a recreation of Ignitus. "I decided I would have a look, and... I-I saw her. I saw the Guardian of earth. I don't know why they're here, but it can't be for anything good. Something's going on and – h-here they come!"

Roland peeked out from behind the rock. The flap of the one on the right flew open, a large, bulky green dragoness stepping out from within. She was as muscular as she was beautiful, but that beauty was spoiled by Roland's instant loathing for her. Just seeing that face of hers, looking at that stupid, wicked smirk...She looked like she was evil incarnate.

A white dragoness with three pairs of horns followed her out. She was lithe and short and had that same look about her, but it looked like she was trying her best to copy the green dragoness. Two male dragons came from the other tent, one orange and another a deeper blue. Apart from their scale colour, they were very clearly twins. They had the same pair of long ivory horns, the same spines running down their backs, and the same hooked tail blade, although the red's was bent in the opposite direction of the blue's. Everyone who came out took their seats around the fire.

"Today's a good day," the fire dragon began. "Really, I can't believe how quickly Darak of Shimmervale accepted our proposal. I thought we would be in Shimmervale by the time we received his word."

"Of _course_ he accepted quick, Brenton," the earth Guardian replied, her tone condescending. "What did you expect? They don't have much in the way of an army, and they're worried somebody's gonna come around and attack them any second. This is a profitable venture for all of us."

"Mmm, I had a feeling he would want to speak to us in person." Brenton put a claw to his lip. "Whatever. We'll chat when we get there. How have the searches been going, Wren? Any luck?"

Wren, the Guardian of ice, was busy staring into blank space. He hadn't listened. Brenton gave him a nudge and he quickly came back to life. "Uh, swimmingly. We were able to locate the next."

Something about Wren's voice made him small and quiet, like he was uncertain of something. Roland couldn't place his claw on what. He gave Ashlyn a look and she seemed as confused as he was about all of this.

"And... where is it?" the white dragoness asked. "Where's the purple dragon headed now?"

Roland's attention was snared like a rodent to a trap. He placed his head up against the stone and listened as best as he could.

Wren seemed caught on something. The earth Guardian chuckled at his behaviour.

"Oh, don't put too much pressure on him, Iris." She put her paw on top of Iris', burying her muzzle below her chin. The white dragoness, Iris, closed her eyes and gave a long, affectionate sigh. "He doesn't... _deal_ _with it_ well."

"Shut your damn mouth, Trevena," Wren responded. Trevena just laughed some more, further embracing her lover. Iris didn't seem to care about their squabbling much, too invested in the touch of her mate. "You–"

"Don't mind her, Wren," Brenton intervened before they could argue. "The location. Where is it?"

Wren lowered his head and gave a short sigh, a breath of irritation. "Dante's Freezer, brother. That's where the wyvern of lightning is sealed away, atop the Platform of Convexus. It's far away in the Weeping Wilds. The purple dragon is going to take some time to find it, but he'll manage."

"To think all this took was killing some _kid_ ," Trevena hissed. Just some kid? Roland felt his anger bubble, ready to explode out of his mouth. How could they speak about Carolin like that? "That's sure to have fucked up that girl, too. The one who killed that kid. I never liked her. Aurus was... _weird_ , but she was such a little bitch. I'm glad she's dead now. I mean, as long as Aurus didn't suddenly grow a heart and let her into the blast chamber."

Ashlyn clenched her fists against the ground. Roland saw the hurt in her eyes, the tears brimming. He calmed himself to give her a nudge, to tell her he was there and that she shouldn't listen to that nonsense. She seemed to understand what he was trying to say.

"We aren't here to focus on relationships passed," Breton chastised. "They don't matter in the long run. We must fulfil Malefor's dying wish by any means necessary. We shouldn't be caught up in these things."

"What else do we have to do? We're playing the waiting game." Trevena removed herself from Iris. Iris seemed to miss the touch as soon as it was gone.

"There is plenty to do, Trevena." Brenton lifted a paw and started counting on his toes. "We have to meet with Darak, we have to keep our city in line, we have to speed along the purple dragon as much as possible... All of that will be much easier if our minds aren't clouded by such worthless things. That girl you speak of is gone. Good riddance, perhaps, but we mustn't focus on her."

"Still really wish I didn't go out with Aurus, though..." Trevena shivered, as though in disgust. She turned her eyes to Iris and grinned. "I'm much happier with you, honey."

"I-I'm glad to hear it!" Iris smirked. Roland found no point in listening to this garbage. He had what he wanted, the location of the next wyvern, the area he could meet Drevon and put a stop to his madness

The conversation went on. Nothing noteworthy was said. Roland decided he was better off comforting Ashlyn in silence. She really didn't need to be listening to this. When Trevena brought up anything related to Firemore, it almost seemed like she was trying to talk as loudly as possible, to make sure she could hear.

A quarter of an hour later, Brenton got out of his seat. "Alright. I think it's best we head to bed. We have a long way to travel in the morning. Take care of watching for us for the first few hours, Wren."

"Yes, brother." Wren didn't move, watching as the others sealed themselves away for the night. He stuck his middle toe up at Trevena. He didn't get a response, but he looked satisfied.

He gave a sigh of relief. Something was different about Wren, Roland knew. He seemed tense the whole time. He couldn't work out why. Maybe it was Trevena ticking him off.

Why did Roland care, though? Wren was their enemy. They needed to leave. "We should go. We'll keep to the cover going back up the slope."

"Okay," Ashlyn whispered back, wiping her eyes. She ducked into the grass, ready to move.

When Roland was sure the Guardian wasn't watching, he scurried through the grass and back up the hill. He made certain he hadn't been seen when he reached the top; Wren's gaze was empty, a stare of longing. After helping Ashlyn up the hill, they padded away with the information they'd garnered.

As they moved further from the camp, Roland stopped and gave Ashlyn his concern. "You okay?"

"Y-yeah, I'm fine." She beamed for good measure. "Nothing to worry about. They were just saying bad things and reminding me of the stuff back in Firemore. I won't listen to them. What happened to you, by the way? Y-you're all scratched."

"Got in a fight with a skurvywing. Went worse for the bird. I'm fine. I'm more worried about you. That was a huge load of shit you had to listen to. But... we do know where the next monolith is now. That makes me excited."

"We have an actual destination," Ashlyn replied in glee. "We'll have to start making plans to get there. But we should probably get back and relay the news to the others first..."

"Hold up."

Roland jumped as he turned around. He came eye to eye with a blue, shadowy dragon, Wren towering over him. Roland tried to shoot away, leaping into the air, but his escape was stopped quickly. Ice surged from the ground and curled around the three dragons in a massive sphere. Roland smacked on the ice, trying to break it. His efforts were futile.

Roland turned around and eyed him in horror. Wren looked almost scared for some reason.

"Stop trying to get away from me, you two. I'm not here to hurt you!"

A lie. That was a lie. Roland knew it. This Guardian was going to kill him. As soon as he came down there...

"In fact, I'm here to help you!"

Roland merely frowned. Maybe... Maybe he wasn't? He seemed genuine.

Whatever the case, whether it was a bluff or not, Roland didn't stand much of a chance against a Guardian. There was no escape from him. He looked down at Ashlyn, who had her paws pressed up against the ice. She turned to face him as well

"You're lucky the others didn't see you," Wren said. "The others wouldn't have taken seeing you as well. Especially you, Ashlyn."

"You... You know who I am?" Ashlyn took hesitant steps forward, a frown on her face.

"Trevena never stopped talking about you, young dragon. She _loathes_ you. I don't know why, but I'm not going to ask." Wren lifted a paw into the air. "I can get rid of this now, right? You aren't going to dash away from me? I only wish to talk."

Not like Roland had much of a choice. Wren could snipe him with an icicle from miles away without breaking a sweat. He seemed trustworthy enough, though. "Yeah..."

"Good." Wren closed his paw and the hollow sphere of ice crumbled, turning to liquid that hovered above them. Roland looked up, fearing what would happen next. After a few seconds, gravity finally intervened.

A sopping red dragon looked up with a glare, and Ashlyn just stared into total bewilderment. Wren shook off his own scales with a laugh, stepping towards the two.

"I can't control my liquid water very well. I apologise." Wren sat in front of them both. Even just sitting down, Wren was several bodies taller than Roland. The ice Guardian opened his mouth to speak, but as he did, he stopped. He looked down at Roland, scrutinised him. The red dragon didn't feel very comfortable being stared at. "There's something... _odd_ about you, young dragon. A strange magical presence. I've never felt anything like it."

"That's... probably the time magic." Weird how Wren could feel magic that _he_ couldn't feel inside himself. He guessed a Guardian was just well-versed in these things.

Wren was shocked by the mention. "Time magic, you say!? Well... that certainly is different. A very good different."

He was getting a feeling he was about to hear the same conversation he'd had not long ago from Darryl. "Yeah. I can summon orange crystals. But not willingly. It happens by itself."

"Hmmm... You know of the Final Five, don't you?" Wren asked. Roland nodded. "That makes things a lot easier then. Listen, you two, I can't stay for long. I need to get back to my post or else the others are probably going to come looking for me. What is your name, red dragon?"

"I'm Roland."

"Well, Roland and Ashlyn," Wren began, "I can help you both immensely. We can't sit here and talk. I know trusting a total stranger is difficult, and one you thought of as enemy would be even harder, but I need you both to meet me in Shimmervale. We need to talk more. This is urgent. The fate of the world could rely on it. I could teach you how to manipulate your powers, Roland."

"I'm not gonna freeze the purple dragon in a crystal if that's what you want. He's my best friend. I'm going after him because he's my friend. I want him _back_. Not what's basically dead."

Wren gave a long sigh. "Understandable, really. But I must talk with you anyway. I'm sure you'd like to learn how your powers work. They could prove useful, even if you don't want to use them on the purple dragon. I even might have a way of getting your friend back without freezing him."

That was exactly what Roland needed to hear. With just those words, he felt like he could trust the Guardian. He needed to know. And he was sure he wasn't being led into a trap. Why would Wren free them there and not just kill them on the spot if he wanted them dead? He could've done that twenty times over by now.

Roland felt like he was headed to Shimmervale anyway. He'd have to skip Warfang if he desired to get to Drevon as quickly as possible. He'd be going by ship to Dante's Freezer to locate him. That was the plan now.

"What do you think, Roland?" Ashlyn angled her head. "Are we going along with this? If he knows how to get Drevon back..."

"Yes," Roland said without hesitation. He knew Wren didn't have much time, so he got to the point as swiftly as possible. "I want to know. Where are we meeting?"

"Excellent!" Wren drew a slip of parchment from his small satchel and dipped his claw into a vial of ink he had with him. He got down on his knees and pressed the paper into his paw, writing some hurried words, then handed it to Roland. " _334 Rookborough Avenue_. We'll meet there next week on Wednesday in the morning. Anyhow, I must be off. Goodbye. May the Ancestors look after you."

Wren launched into the sky and back towards his camp. Roland stared at the paper in his paw for a few moments, looked over Wren's elegant handwriting, and then sat it in his satchel with all the other things. He repeated the name to himself a few times so he wouldn't forget in case he lost the paper.

"W-well..." Ashlyn had a smile on her face. He found it contagious. "I... I guess we're not heading to Warfang anymore. We're going to Shimmervale."

"I dunno how I feel about the place. I'm not a big fan of the 'only dragons' thing. But it's the best thing we can do right now. It's our only direction. We should head back, though. The others are probably getting worried about us."

* * *

Roland paced up the hill with Ashlyn beside him, both conversing with each other about the stars. Roland had pointed to the constellations because they were considerably bright this night and asked her to name them. He didn't expect her to have much of an answer, but she managed to give him their titles. She was either more intelligent than he'd previously thought – and he knew she was already pretty smart – or just guessing and having fun. He couldn't tell.

As he neared the entrance of the cave, and the two rats they'd totally forgotten to cook, he was tempted to shout a big hello to both Myrtle and Tris, but he closed his mouth before sound could leak out and plague the quiet. He found the most adorable thing he'd seen in a while.

Tris was nestled against Myrtle, totally passed out, her cheek buried in Myrtle's neck. She breathed calm, almost happy breaths through her nostrils. Myrtle peered up at them both and uttered a very low, "Shush."

Seemed like Myrtle had done her job well, then.

Roland hid his smile as best as he could and crept inside, careful not to disturb the grass and awaken Tris. Fluffy looked at him, as though ready to scream in joy at his return, but he seemed to know Tris needed the rest more than anything and kept silent and still. Roland gave him a pat, which he instinctively leaned into.

They'd have to tell her the news in the morning when they all woke up. For now, he curled up in front of his beastly companion. The dreadwing stretched over him and protected him from the bitter cold.

He had a goal now. A real objective. An actual place to go. Were things finally starting to look up?

He sure did hope so. He wasn't sure how much more failure and pain he could take.


	28. With You

With You

The next morning came swiftly. A refreshed and excited Roland awoke with a smile on his face. He unhinged his jaw and let a soundless yawn escape his mouth, then gave a quiet greeting to the dreadwing above him. He only needed to nudge Fluffy's hairy stomach and he shifted away. He clutched the grass and stretched his tight muscles.

The others hadn't awakened yet; the sky beyond was still tinted orange by the rising sun. Weird that the Ancestors hadn't allowed him much rest, but still provided him the energy he needed. He felt he'd had one of the best sleeps ever. Perhaps this sudden gain of purpose, the heavy, blinding gloom of his trek lifted off his wings, had something to do with it. His excitement was without bounds; finally, he knew where to go. His most crucial question had been answered.

Now all he needed to do was get there. How hard could that be? Head to Shimmervale, speak to Wren, hop on a boat, and sail to Dante's Freezer. Of course, there came the question of _where_ the monolith was in those icy wastes, but Wren probably had the answer to that enquiry.

He let out a cheerful sigh, gave Fluffy a good chin scratch, and bounced out of the cave. The dreadwing hopped after him. He landed in a pile of paw-deep snow, shocked by the shivering sensation. He stood still for a moment, taking in the bleached hills and the snow-dotted sky, before moving towards the river. The snowfall had come heavily while he slept, and the chill in the air barely kept it from melting. He didn't mind the unfriendly conditions. The happiness was almost warming in a way.

Roland cupped the water in his paws and raised it to his dry muzzle. It sent shivers tumbling down his back, but it was as energising as it was cold. His dreadwing plopped down next to him and joined him. Through the corner of his eye, Roland looked at Fluffy, as happy as he'd been in a while.

"We're off to Shimmervale, Fluffy," he said. "We know where to go now."

"We're off to where?"

He turned around, spotting Myrtle. She must've quickly woken after he had, hearing him exit. "Oh, yeah, you don't know yet. We were going to tell you last night, but you were busy hugging your – I mean, Tris."

Myrtle gave him a sharp glare, but she seemed amused either way. "Answer the question."

"Me and Ashlyn found the worst and best thing last night," he began. "Turns out Ashlyn was hidden behind a rock, watching none other than the _Guardians of Warfang_. You know, the people that started this whole mess in the first place."

Myrtle stared confusedly. "I get how that's the worst thing, but how's it the best as well?"

"It turns out they know where the next monolith is. Dante's Freezer." He grinned. Myrtle's jaw dropped. "We actually met with the ice Guardian last night. His name's Wren. It turns out he wasn't like them at all. He wants to help us."

"...That sounds like a trap," Myrtle stated cautiously, but Roland was quick to deny it.

"If he wanted us dead then he would've killed us on the spot. I told him I was a time dragon. Knowing that, he would've wanted me gone instantly if he was working with the others. I'm the person who can _supposedly_ stop the purple dragon forever. I'm pretty sure the Guardians know about that."

"Huh..." Myrtle took a seat on the bank. "Well... that's great news. You said we were going somewhere as well, though. Has the plan changed?"

"Yeah. We're heading to Shimmervale. We're gonna have to skip Warfang." He was cheery about that, but Myrtle didn't look as much. She thought about it for a moment before concern settled on her face. "Uh... What's wrong?"

"If we're goin' to Shimmervale, we're gonna have to leave Tris behind even earlier..."

He didn't know what to say to that whatsoever.

"...Oh," was the quiet, disheartened response he gave.

He hadn't even thought of that. In his excitement he'd forgotten that Tris probably wasn't going with them. They would have to leave her behind once they reached the city of dragons. She'd be heading to Warfang on her lonesome.

Suddenly, getting to Shimmervale no longer stirred his enthusiasm. He felt guilty for not thinking about her. How could he forget?

He didn't want to leave her by herself. She needed friends right now, more than _ever_. How was she going to deal with the stress and sadness by herself? She'd only gotten to sleep last night because of Myrtle. How would she go on by herself? With everything having happened, she looked ready to break as is...

"I... was hopin' to spend a little more time with her."

Myrtle's response made Roland feel culpable beyond belief. He felt like he was ripping a friend away from her, like he was severing a growing bond before it could truly blossom.

"I guess this is faster, though," she continued. "We have a direction now, at least..."

That didn't make him feel happy anymore.

"Shit, Roland... Now I feel bad."

"Same." He sighed. There wasn't anything they could do about it, however. Roland needed to go after Drevon and stop him. As much as he desired it, he couldn't sit around and help Tris while Drevon proceeded towards the next monolith. As much as he hated to say it, every second wasted on anything else was a moment he could be saving his best friend and potentially the world.

Thinking that he was supposed to be some kind of saviour when his only motivation in the first place had been to get his best friend back was terrifying in itself. And somehow, even having that as reassurance, he still felt guilty over not being there for the yellow dragoness.

Roland hated these choices – ones basically made for him – with a passion. He wondered how Tris would react, too.

"We've just gotta keep going. We need to tell her what the plan is now," he said after a long moment of silence. "She's gonna have to make up her mind really soon. I hate to do this to her, especially right _now_ when she's dealing with... all of this stuff. But we don't have much of a choice."

"She woke up as I moved." Myrtle nodded. Her confidence was let down by her dejection. "Let's go and tell her. The longer we leave her in the dark, the worse."

Roland paced away from the water, Fluffy following much less happily behind him. He leaned against the dreadwing a little for support. He didn't want to say these things to Tris. He really didn't...

As he stepped back into the mouth of the cave, he saw both Ashlyn and Tris awake. Ashlyn had that same expression Myrtle had when he'd told her about the newly formulated plan. Tris seemed unusually cheerful, but confused by the looks she was being given. Happy that Myrtle had been there for her last night. Now he was going to tear that joy to shreds.

"Is... everything alright, you three?" Tris asked. It'd been a few moments. Roland wasn't sure how to start. "None of you look happy."

There was silence for a time. Myrtle, like always, couldn't take the quiet. "There's been a change of plans, Tris."

"What do you mean?" She cocked her head.

Roland gave a long sigh. "We're heading to Shimmervale now. Me and Ashlyn found the Guardians of Warfang last night and listened to them speaking about their plans. We know the next monolith is in Dante's Freezer. The ice Guardian wants to help us and we're gonna meet with him in Shimmervale. It's a much quicker trip for us if we head there. We need all the time we can spare."

Predictably, Tris didn't say a thing. She had no clue how to take that news.

"We're sorry," Ashlyn said, noticing the hurt on her face. "W-we don't want to–"

"N-no, it's okay." She looked up. Her smile quivered. "It's... It's okay. I understand."

Roland didn't feel like it was okay at all.

"I knew being able to spend time with you all in Warfang was too good to be true anyway. You three have something important to do."

"If it could be any other way, you can be certain I'd go that way instead," Roland told her. "I despise how limited my choices are. You're gonna have to make up your mind on what you want to do earlier than we thought."

"I'm..." Tris gave up and shrugged. Roland could see the hurt hovering around her eyes, wet and threatening to slip, and just wanted to comfort her in any way he could. But he didn't see much of a way to do that now, not when they'd told her they were abandoning her for good. They weren't going to be there to comfort her. "I-I'll... I need time to think. L-let's just... just get going. It's a couple days to Shimmervale from here. I shouldn't keep you."

"We'll... come back when we're done." Ashlyn seemed to regret those words as soon as she'd said them, because Tris was instantly filled with trepidation.

"And what if you don't?"

"Don't say that." Myrtle caressed Tris' shoulder. "We will. Have some faith in us. After all this is over, we'll meet you in Warfang, 'kay?"

"But–" Tris was silenced by Myrtle's gaze.

"I know it ain't good, but it's the best we can offer. You've just gotta wait until then. We'll come back for you."

Tris wanted to argue, yet that look Myrtle gave her seemed to shut down her attempts. The yellow dragoness brushed Myrtle's paw away and exhaled. "Let's... just go, please. The faster we move, the better for you three."

Roland nodded reluctantly. "Let's move, then." He gestured them over with a flick of his talon. "Better not keep Drevon waiting for us."

He was no longer in the adventuring mood, but he had to press on, for Drevon. As much as he wanted to do the best he could for Tris, saving Drevon was in a totally different realm of importance. He'd have to leave the assistance he could give until after that. There was no other way around it.

They stomped out the embers scattered around their stone circle and set out once again.

* * *

The trip was slow. Slower than Roland would've liked, usually, but he wasn't one to care this time. He wanted more time to spend with Tris and the others surely did as well, in spite of the hurry to save Drevon. He propped up a leg on Fluffy's back, slotting it into a groove in the saddle, and rested his chin atop his paw. The dreadwing was happy to do the walking for him today. Roland certainly wasn't going to say no to that.

Myrtle's jealous looks were thinly veiled. He smiled in return.

"So..." Myrtle brushed a wing over Tristana's spineless back. "What are the academies like in Warfang? I know you haven't been to Warfang, but you probably know a thing or two about them considering your research into magic."

"They say they're the best of the best," Tris answered. "I learnt most of my knowledge through books and by myself, really. It was difficult to find an amazing teacher in Firemore. With the ones in Warfang, I would've learnt in a snap."

Myrtle scratched her chin. "Have you considered going to one when you're in Warfang?"

"They wouldn't accept me." Tris sighed. Everybody frowned, knowing her skill in the field of magic was unparalleled among their group, better than even many dragons older than her. "I-it's not because of magical skill. That... just costs a lot of money. I barely have any of that. The fifty copper Darryl gave me would barely equate to an hour of training with them."

"You have to be rich to live a fulfilling life in Warfang anyway," Ashlyn said. "Unless you want to live in the 'common' district, of course. Which is just a nice term for the poor district. They're better than the slums in Firemore, but they're... not nice. I'd know."

Tris looked away, her gaze revealing her discomfort. Maybe she thought she was going to end up living there. Somebody like her didn't deserve that in the slightest.

"When you get to Warfang, what do you think you'd be interested in doing other than magic?" Myrtle asked. Myrtle was trying her absolute best for her. Every bit of aid they could squeeze out right now would be better for Tris in the long run. Tris' response to the green dragoness' question was a shrug. "Well, I know you're a bit of a blacksmith already... Do you like cooking? Roland tells me you're a mean chef. You apparently make good chocolate-chip cookies."

That made Tris giggle. "If I had a kitchen and some ingredients, I'd make some for you. I was hoping you'd help me do some cooking in Warfang, actually. I thought that would've been fun..."

The mention of her previous plans brought her down once more. Roland figured it was better to not mention Warfang, then. Maybe it was better to let her think about it by herself for now. He wanted her to be as happy as possible in these final moments with them.

He looked down at Fluffy, who peered back at him. Suddenly, he formulated an idea. A really stupid one, but one that was sure to rip her sorrow to shreds.

"Hey, Tris," he called. She turned her head towards him. "Do you wanna ride Fluffy?"

"...Uh, what?" The abnormal suggestion bewildered her, but that slight mirth was there. "Um..."

"Do you wanna ride him?" he asked again. "Trust me, Fluffy likes rides and pets. Making him happy makes you happy."

The word 'pet' made Fluffy visibly excited. When he was left sitting there for several seconds without one, he eyed Roland in sour disappointment.

Tris looked at him for a while, stunned by this peculiar offer. Roland spun around to study the others. Myrtle was as perplexed as she was, but Ashlyn's look... It was rather knowing. She knew _exactly_ what he was going to do. And he didn't know if she agreed with his plan whatsoever.

He didn't care. He knew this would shatter that icy mood of hers and bring warmth forth again. Though his intentions were good, he smiled almost evilly.

"Just hop on," he said as he jumped off Fluffy. The dreadwing's concern was immediate, and he stopped as soon as they did. "Give Tris a ride, Fluffy."

The dreadwing merely turned his head and shrugged after Roland. He looked okay with allowing her access to his back.

Tris stared at him a while longer before she finally caved. "Okay... Fine."

She fluttered into the air and landed on Fluffy's back. Roland winked at Ashlyn. She didn't dare offer her eyes, fearful of being called out, being discerned as if she was involved in the tragedy Roland was about to pull.

Roland was certain it would be okay. He knew Tris was a bit of thrill-seeker.

"And... now what?" She wrapped her paws around clumps of hair. "How do I make him mo–"

"Fluffy," Roland interrupted her. "Yah."

He blinked and Fluffy was gone. The blast of wind from the takeoff smacked him in the face. He barely even heard Tris scream as she experienced maximum g-force.

Myrtle stared at him in horror. If not for the fact that dragons could fly, she probably would've squealed as well. And, of course, Roland wouldn't have sent Tris on a vertical roller coaster.

He watched the dreadwing, a dot in the sky, cease his ascent, probably as soon as Tris yelled 'stop.' The distant yellow smudge hopped off and started descending by herself. When she came back to land, flapping her wings with Fluffy right behind her, she stared at Roland in total disbelief that he would be so cruel. He grinned.

And then she started smiling, too.

"N-now I know," she began, panting, " _exactly_ how Myrtle feels about you. You're an absolute monster. I thought you were nice!"

Ashlyn continued to look like she'd played no part in this. Fluffy seemed as though he'd enjoyed himself for the seconds he'd gotten to charge into the heavens.

"I thought you needed some fresh air." Roland mustered as much innocence as possible. Tris didn't buy it. In a reaction unlike her, much more like Myrtle, she punched him in the shoulder. He feigned exaggerated hurt. "Ow! What was _that_ for!?"

"You're a jerk." She twirled away and huffed. She couldn't, however, keep her irritated facade for long. She brought her toes together and peered longingly at the dreadwing. "I wouldn't mind actually riding him for a bit, though. He's pretty cool. If you wouldn't mind..."

Give up his warm, fluffy seat? That _would've_ been a guaranteed no from him, but on this occasion – and to reward her for going through ten seconds of hell – he could spare her the pillow for a while.

"Be my guest," he said.

She jumped back atop the hairy beast, gleeful and content. "How do I actually control him?"

He pushed the temptation to yell the keyword again back, figuring she wouldn't take it so well the next time. "It's not hard. Just grab his hair and pull him the way you want to go. I promise it doesn't hurt him. To get him off the ground without saying the command... Well, I've never done that before, but I assume you just pull up."

"Okay, thanks," she replied swiftly and did as told without further hesitation, seeking instant thrills. Fluffy obeyed with a jump into the air, wingspan working slowly to keep him afloat. Tris tightly gripped her makeshift fur joysticks in awe. Roland reached for her with a paw, about to point out that she probably shouldn't pull too hard, else be sent careening into the sky again, but it was far too late for that. She yelled out as she blurred past them again. This time it wasn't in shock and horror.

It was in happiness.

Everybody stopped to watch Tris while she quickly mastered the controls. She zipped about the sky, shooting towards the earth before pulling back up in a loop. She whipped through the air like a blistering tornado.

"Your ideas are dumb, Roland," Ashlyn said. Her previous fear had disappeared and she was satisfied that Tris was having fun. She still watched in apprehension, though, like Tris was suddenly going to pull down and crater the earth. "How did you know this would work?"

"I know they're dumb, but that's the point. So dumb that they work."

The three left on the ground started moving again. Tris would follow them as they kept going. At least, he hoped so. To see and hear her joy again, however, was all he'd wanted. And he'd gotten it.

* * *

Roland prodded at the fire before him with a stick, letting it catch alight, only to wave it around and put it out. It was entertaining to rinse and repeat those actions over and over. Fluffy cocked his head each time, probably pondering why the red dragon was toying with the blaze. When the dreadwing started to get sick of it, and probably scared Roland was going to accidentally singe his scales, he snapped the stick out of Roland's paw and sent it twirling through the mouth of the cavern, never to be seen again. His entertainment ripped away from him, Roland looked up at his companion and pouted. Myrtle stifled a giggle. Ashlyn hid a smile. Even Tris smirked.

Shimmervale was getting closer. Wren, Drevon's location, the real beginning of his adventure. Despite that, Tris seemed a little happier tonight. Sitting in peace, listening to the crackle of the fire, the hiss as leaves crumpled, appeared to calm her. She was focused on the now, not the future.

On occasion, he saw those looks, though, that hidden sadness that all this was going to end soon, that she was going to be alone. She hadn't come to an answer regarding what she was going to do yet, about where her future would take her. He couldn't blame her; if he were in her position, he'd need time to think about that. Unfortunately, she wasn't blessed with time.

"Tris?" Myrtle spoke up. Tris stopped staring into her paws. "You know... you don't _have_ to go to Warfang. There are other places that you haven't considered. The Shattered Vale is west of Warfang. That's a pretty nice place. Used to live there myself."

"I never gave it any thought." Tris itched her chin at this new idea. "You used to live there?"

"Yeah, before my mum basically kicked me out."

Curious, Tris cocked her head. "Kicked out?"

"This ain't about me," Myrtle said. Roland knew she wasn't all that fond of talking about her past. He barely knew a thing about her backstory and he'd known her for years and years now. "All I'm sayin' is that you have other options. Make sure you consider them, too."

Tris paused to think. She scanned the flames, as if searching the sparkling embers for an answer.

"What are the academies like?" Tris asked. Roland was happy about the way this was going. Maybe she was beginning to find the right option. Myrtle smiled, knowing she was starting to strike gold.

"It's a small place, so not really an actual _dragon_ academy for proper training of the elements, but there's a school or two there. Honestly, though, if you're still thinkin' of bein' a Guardian, they could probably use someone like you. When I left, they were lookin' for dragons to become Guardians to properly lead the town. I'd bet they're still searchin'. Not many dragons actually live there."

"Oh, and if that's not something you want to pursue anymore," Ashlyn continued for her, "the Shattered Vale is full of metalworkers. I've been there once. The whole town is like a big heap of iron and steel. I think they would always be looking for more. You definitely have what it takes."

"It's probably cheap to live there, too," Roland added. "Nothing like Warfang at the very least. I'd bet that, if I was still a thief, I could probably live a life of luxury off a few petty pickpockets a week. A job there would pay more than enough."

"Never was expensive, yeah," Myrtle agreed. Roland felt as though they'd hit the nail on the head with that persuasion. Tris gave it thought for a while, sitting in silence. She seemed to be saddened over her options despite their attempts to give her good ideas. "Um... You okay?"

"Y-yeah," Tris exclaimed. "I'm just... thinking."

"I-I'm sorry you can't have more time." Ashlyn shuffled closer towards her. "Shimmervale's a day away. You'll have to make up your mind soon. I doubt you want to spend the rest of your life wandering the wilderness."

Tris sat motionless for a while. Soon enough, though, she opened her mouth again.

"Do you really think they could use somebody like me there? A Guardian or a blacksmith?"

"Heck yeah, they could, especially someone with magic as awesome as yours," Myrtle replied. She clapped Tris on the back with her wing, flinching slightly as she did so. Still forgetting her wings had problems, obviously. "You'd help out so much. It's a smallish community, so you'd get to know everyone. I think they'd all love somebody like you. You'd feel right at home."

"If you think so..." A smile grew on Tris' maw. Maybe she'd come to a decision, then. Something about her expression felt forced, though, like she was trying to stop them from agonising over her. Roland couldn't tell if it was a mask or not.

Perhaps he was thinking too hard.

"You'd love it there, I'm sure," Roland said. "It'd be quiet and relaxing. And if that place is small, I think you'd have all the time in the world, even as a Guardian."

"...Maybe that's where I should go. It sounds nice."

"So you've made up your mind?" Myrtle questioned. Tris hesitated a few moments before finally giving a nod. "Great!"

Tris didn't seem all that enthused.

"I think I'll go to sleep now," she said. Roland looked outside the mouth of their cave. The dark had plunged the snow-speckled hills into the black quickly tonight. He was getting tired, too.

"Good idea. We'll be up bright an' early tomorrow." Myrtle retired into her corner, where the grass grew thick and provided cover from the snow sprinkling inside. "Night."

Roland crouched down next to Fluffy again, then the dreadwing leaned over him, becoming his blanket for the night. Ashlyn agreed to keep watch first and seated herself by the entrance. Tris crawled into a tight space where her lean figure fit perfectly, just across from Roland, and closed her eyes.

She seemed happier, but there was something wrong with her expression that Roland couldn't place a claw on. There were other thoughts lurking in her mind. He wasn't sure what.

It might've just been him looking into things too much again, however.

He shrugged and threw his budding thoughts to the wayside. He was better off letting sleep consume him for now. He could think later on.

* * *

And there it was. The point of no return. Roland's final hope, a distant collection of spires and stone, washed in sunlight from the west, the true turning point in his quest to rescue Drevon from the black curse. The city of dragons. Shimmervale.

The goodbye.

Upon the tip of a cliff stood four dragons and a dreadwing, breathing the icy air, unsure what to do or say anymore. Everybody stared ahead, kept their chins up, prepared for the future. Everybody except _one_. Tristana.

Roland couldn't bear waiting for somebody to say something, anything. After having opened his mouth to speak several times to break the quiet, only to close it from a loss of words, he was able to eventually form a sentence.

"This... is it, guys," was what came out. It didn't add anything at all. Nobody replied, not even Myrtle. As he turned to the companions by his sides – Ashlyn and Fluffy on his left, Myrtle and Tris on his right – he saw everybody looking at the yellow dragoness. Her muzzle quivered and her fists tightened.

He wasn't sure what to do. Last morning he'd thought it would be easy. Just get to Shimmervale, right? Unquestionably easy. Now there was this dilemma.

He wanted to leave, but he didn't. He wanted to save Drevon, but it was at the cost of leaving Tris to go her own way. Worst of all, he didn't have any choice in the matter. His goal was set for him – his fate hadn't been his to decide. He _had_ to leave her. There was nothing he could do about that.

And yet it made him feel awful. Leaving these problems of hers untamed, leaving her to walk the lonely road. It was out of his control now, but he still felt so guilty.

It conflicted with every fibre inside him. His best friend was just the more important target. It pained him to think that. It really did.

"You doin' okay?" Myrtle asked Tris. Roland and Ashlyn joined her in a triangle around the electric dragoness.

"Yeah." One word was all she breathed. She closed her eyelids and drew a lungful of air.

"We'll come back," Ashlyn told her again, like she had so many times before. "We'll meet you in the Shattered Vale."

This time, instead of agreeing in silence, Tris shook her head. "I... I-I don't believe that. I feel like something's going to happen. I... I prayed to the Ancestors last night. I never do that. I asked them for guidance, I asked them if the three of you were going to be alright, but they didn't answer me..."

"The Ancestors work in mysterious ways," Ashlyn responded. She gently touched Tris' paw with her own. "They don't give straight answers and a lot of the time they don't give one at all. They'd rather not tamper with something as powerful as fate."

"Something will happen... I can feel it." Tris shook in apprehension. "I know it and it's all going to be because I didn't help..."

"Tris, we'll be _fine_ ," Roland said. No amount of reassurance would calm her panic, though. "You just have to trust us. We _will_ come back."

"Listen to Roly. When he's actually usin' his brain, he's pretty smart." Myrtle winked. Despite that confidence Myrtle seemed to apply, Roland could tell there was distress. It wasn't just her, either. He was hiding his own sorrow for Tris. Ashlyn stood behind her own illusion of sureness.

Tris could easily tell, too. She knew they weren't entirely sure.

"There's Dante's Freezer, there's Drevon, there's the wyverns, there's..." Tris trailed off. She gripped her forehead and sighed. "There's so much _danger_. I'm just leaving you all to fend for yourselves. I-I'm leaving my _friends_..."

"It's okay, Tris," Roland said. "You–"

"It's _not_ okay!" she yelled at him, then clenched her teeth together. Roland took a frightened step back into Fluffy. Tris kicked the ground with her foot, sending rocks scrambling down the face of the cliff. "I feel so selfish! I'm leaving the only friends I've ever had to _die_! How is that okay!?"

"It's what we want for _you_ ," Myrtle said. "I don't want you gettin' hurt because of us. I'd never forgive myself if you came along and somethin' happened to you. It ain't _your_ problem. You've already got enough to deal with as it is..."

"B-but–"

"Please, Tris. Just trust me. Trust _us_." Myrtle moved closer to her and gave her shoulder a rub. Tris looked away, shutting her teary eyes tight. "We'll come back when all of this is over. Find yourself while we're gone. Everything's gonna turn out okay. I believe in you."

"Myrtle, I–" No matter how hard she tried, Myrtle wouldn't let her speak another word.

"Look at me." Myrtle stood up and placed both front paws atop her shoulders. She drew one away, reached for Tris' chin, and tugged it towards hers. "We'll. Be. _Okay_. I know we're walkin' into death's face, but we'll pull through like we always have. You can count on that."

Inches apart, one dragoness stared into another. Roland thought he saw acceptance blossoming in Tris' eyes, that she was making the right choice, but it was gone in a second, replaced by something else. Apart from the gentle breeze humming in his ears, silence governed them. Myrtle seemed so... transfixed by the yellow dragoness before her, the paw cupped beneath Tristana's chin sliding towards her neck.

The moment of quiet ended abruptly when Myrtle stopped staring with a soft laugh, dropping onto all fours again. She eyed the ground in barely-hidden embarrassment. Roland tried not to smile, as did Ashlyn, and even Fluffy seemed joyed, the red dragon noticed when he looked up at the beast behind him.

"Heh... Um, anyway..." Myrtle reached behind her head and scratched the back of her skull. Through the tears, Tris held onto a smile. "We should get goin'. Still got a ways to travel before Shimmervale. And you've got a while before the Shattered Vale."

"Yeah..." Tris replied. "I guess this is goodbye, then."

"For a while," Roland told her again. "Not forever. We'll be back before you know it."

"Maybe then you can show me how to perfect my ice stream," Ashlyn said with a grin.

"Maybe." Tris shrugged. She turned around and took a step to the east. She stopped as suddenly as she began and twisted her head back. "See you, guys... Talk to you soon."

"Bye," the other three uttered in harmony.

After Tris gave Fluffy a fond scratch on the neck, she lifted into the air and flew down the cliff before walking away from them all, left with only her dreams and aspirations.

And so there were four, Roland thought to himself. Just him, Myrtle, Ashlyn, and his loyal monster.

"Let's... Let's move," Roland said, his voice shaking. "W-we've got a couple hours to go now."

"...Let's." Myrtle turned away from them, starting her walk down the side of the cliff. Roland caught a glimpse of the wetness of her eyes, but didn't dare say a word about it. They just started moving in silence. That was that.

This was right. This was okay. It was the right decision for her. Even if it made him feel horrible for her and for himself, it was alright. That was what she needed to do. This was what they needed to do. Their fates hadn't lined up this day.

There would be a next time, though. He'd make sure of it.

He just felt so awful. His heart throbbed and his eyes stung.

He followed Myrtle with Ashlyn and Fluffy behind him, his head low. All the time, something was going wrong. Something _had_ _to_ change. This curse of misfortune would be his undoing one day. Nothing could ever go off without a hitch.

"I know how you feel," Ashlyn said. He was tempted to say she couldn't comprehend how horrible he felt about himself. On instincts alone, he was prepared to deny he was feeling anything. But when he saw her eyes, wet with her own sadness as well, he knew that was wrong and that she definitely did know how he was feeling. "I-I wish she could've stayed. But this was just... better for her. Like Myrtle said, if something ever happened to her because we decided it was better she should come..."

He nodded. "Yep..."

"Don't be hard on yourself." She smiled weakly at him. Now _she_ was the one being supportive for him. Funny how things came back around like that.

He stopped, a sudden noise pricking at his earholes. That wasn't just the wind in the grass, right?

"Wait!"

Roland almost tripped over his paws, startled by that familiar tone. He'd thought it gone for good. He whipped around, eyes widened when he saw a yellow figure rushing back towards them.

"T-Tris?" Myrtle gasped in shock. "What are you–"

Tris skidded to a stop in front of the four, tears coursing down her cheeks. "I-I-I can't do it. I _can't_..."

Ashlyn was surprised. "W-what do you mean? Yes you can! You can do this. We–"

"N-no, not that." She violently shook her head. "I can't _leave you guys_. I just... I can't. I can't just leave the only friends I've ever had. All of this stuff you're going after... I need to go. I can't go the other way. It's too selfish of me."

"Tris, we've been over this," Roland said. "It's not–"

"It is to _me_ ," she intervened. "I c-can't just wait around knowing all I do. It's become my problem as well. I _want_ it to be my problem."

Roland wasn't certain what to say to that. He wanted to argue. Somehow, though, he also didn't. He wanted her to be safe from their issues, but he also wanted her to join them.

"There's... There's nothing waiting for me in Warfang and the Shattered Vale. All of that stuff might not even matter soon..." Tris' form shook with sorrow, but her eyes glinted with true determination. "I've made up my mind. I want to go with you. I want to help you. I can't sit by knowing that I should be helping you."

"Tris..." Myrtle said. Tristana inhaled shakily.

"Please," she pleaded. "I need to help. Please..."

Myrtle sat still. Roland gulped down the ball gathering in his throat. Ashlyn had her fists curled. Fluffy watched from behind, awaiting Myrtle's reply.

Finally, after the longest moment Roland had ever experienced, Myrtle put on her signature toothy grin. "Well... if this is what you really want, we'll be happy to have you, Tris."

"Thank you!" She let her breath out in a pent-up sob and wrapped her legs around the green dragoness' neck. Roland was worried still, but he smiled anyway.

"This is what you _really_ want?" he asked for a final time when Tris let go of Myrtle, patting the yellow dragoness' back.

"Yes. It is." She gave an enthusiastic nod. "It'd be stupid to leave you guys. You're the greatest people I know. I want to do this for you three. For the world. For Drevon. I'd be happier dying with you than going anywhere else."

"Well... I won't say no." He chuckled softly. He tried hard to hold back a tear. Internally, he was screaming in joy. "Like Myrtle said, we're walking right into the face of death. Remember that. It's gonna be hard."

"We'll pull through like always," Ashlyn repeated what Myrtle had said earlier. She gave Tris the biggest grin Roland thought he'd ever seen on her. "I'm... kind of glad you didn't listen to us in the end. I'm overjoyed you're coming with us."

"Me too." Tris returned the grin. "And I know it'll be hard, Roland. I accept that anything could happen."

"Alrighty then." He turned around and pointed towards the city, jumping atop his trusty steed's back. "Let's be off, then. To Shimmervale, Fluffy! Yah!"

And so Roland was launched into the sky. But he didn't care.

Maybe he wasn't such a poor, unfortunate soul after all.


	29. City of Dragons

City of Dragons

"So... How the hell are we gettin' a dreadwing into Shimmervale?"

After solving the previous issue, now well on their way to the city, that problem had arisen. Roland hadn't a solution yet. He couldn't take him beyond the watch towers and their keen-eyed guards, surely not into the actual city. Nobody would allow Fluffy entrance.

Roland pushed a paw into his cheek in frustration and gripped the flat rock beneath his stomach more tightly. He peered through the mouth of the cave and into the thin woodland, as if to search the trees for an answer. Fluffy wasn't heading inside and he didn't think he could leave him out of Shimmervale for what was likely going to be more than a week, either.

Fluffy had managed to locate him again when Aurus pursued and attacked him and Ashlyn ages ago, but that hadn't been as extensive an amount of time as he was planning to be in Shimmervale for. What if he couldn't find Fluffy this time? Worse yet, what if Fluffy rushed into the city in a futile endeavour to find him again, only to be struck down and slaughtered by an entourage of guards thinking he was no more than a beast? They wouldn't spare the dreadwing a chance.

He wanted to say he would stay with Fluffy outside, awaiting his friends in this cave while they explored the city, but he felt as though he needed to go more than anyone. Wren had desired him specifically. _He_ was the time dragon, after all, and he definitely needed to hear what Wren had to say about wrenching the dark power away from Drevon.

"One of us is going to have to wait here." Tris pulled a stick from a pile they'd gathered earlier and placed it in the writhing flames. The campfire lapped up fuel like a thirsty dog. "That... or we'll have to tie him up."

"Do we have any other ways?" Roland wasn't keen on that second idea; Fluffy's face showed he felt the same.

The only shot he had at finding Fluffy an area to stay was seeing Wren at the destination he'd written down for him, _334 Rookborough Avenue_. He assumed that was a house. He thought about talking Wren into keeping a dreadwing in there. He had realistic expectations – he foresaw a no – but it was worth a shot.

There was still time before his meeting with Warfang's Guardian of ice. The plan tomorrow had been to head into Shimmervale to familiarise himself with the city. Perhaps he could pop in later and ask.

That was assuming Wren was going to let him and his friends stay with him. If that wasn't the case, he'd have to set his sights on an inn of some kind, or he'd have to go back into the wilderness. And then he was back to square one with his Fluffy problem.

Even then, how was he supposed to get Fluffy past those watchtowers and their enormous lights? Somebody was bound to see him, even as he hid beneath the cover of night. And how in the Realms was he going to keep Fluffy still inside a home? What if the dreadwing went wandering and was seen by the denizens of Shimmervale?

All that knocked out the previous idea of asking Wren. It was too unlikely.

As his expression changed and revealed his displeasure over these questions, he noticed the others were looking about the same. Maybe the same things had clouded their minds and they couldn't come up with a viable strategy, either.

"We have the watchtowers to worry about," Ashlyn eventually spoke. "I don't think we can get him inside, but maybe once we have a ship, we can bank it somewhere hidden and then send a runner to inform the person staying behind when we're leaving for Dante's Freezer. Then we all hop on and set sail. I don't know what else would work if we can't put him on a leash."

There was a spell of awkward silence. Working with the idea Ashlyn had made everything harder for them and she seemed to know that. He didn't want somebody to have to stay here, bear the burden of watching over Fluffy.

"Sorry, Roland," Ashlyn continued. "I've got nothing else. I think the only easy way of going about this is tying him up."

Roland jumped off his stone, his long horns almost scraping against the roof of the cave. He was irritated the only logical conclusion was one his companion wouldn't adore, but he had to accept that. Soothingly, Roland rubbed the dreadwing's neck, seeing his monster's visage of annoyance. "I know it sucks, Fluffy. Unfortunately, it's the only easy way."

"I guess that's that, then." Myrtle shrugged. "We'll tie him up in the morning, tell him to stay, and we'll get moving."

"I'll make sure I come back everyday." Roland smiled at Fluffy. The dreadwing was at least happy with that promise. Fluffy nearly seemed to forget he was being leashed and left behind in the first place. "Anyway... I guess we should go to bed. It's getting dark."

"I'll take first watch," Ashlyn called, already fluttering towards a thick branch on a tree right next to the cave. It hung low to the grass, yet offered a good vantage point. No predator would slink towards them without being spotted.

"But you've done it first basically every night for the past week," Tris argued. "You go for way longer than any of us, too. Why don't you let me go first?"

"I-it's okay! I don't mind!" She perched atop the branch, moonlight from an opening in the scattered, papery foliage curling across her polished scales. "You can slee–"

"Oh, come on!" Tris leaped and zipped around the branch, joining Ashlyn by her side. The blue dragoness found herself waddling backwards and leaning away in surprise. "I haven't been on watch these past few nights. Give me a go."

"I-I, uh... y-you don't need to... Tris, I've got this–"

The branch bent and creaked under their combined weight, until Ashlyn placing her foot on the end made it crack noisily. Their hold snapped from beneath them. If only her reflexes had been as fast as her lightning, Tris would've flapped her wings like Ashlyn. The yellow dragoness fell from the tree and flopped onto the grass

"Oof..." Tris rolled onto her side, a sheepish grin on her face. Ashlyn kept hovering, still bewildered. Roland was amused by the sight; he checked for Myrtle's reaction, but her eyes were elsewhere, face buried in her satchel.

In time, Ashlyn was entertained by the comical position Tris was in as well. "O-okay, now that you're hurt, I should take first watch so you can rest off your injuries."

"Oh, hush." Tris jumped to her feet and grabbed onto another branch of the tree, hoisting herself up. She pointed towards the cave with a demanding claw. "Go to bed!"

"But–"

"C'mon, Ash. Sleepy time." Roland walked outside and poked Ashlyn's leg. She'd been working her arse off. He remembered only staying up for a couple hours each night; Ashlyn had been doing more than double that, perhaps even more over the course of the break they'd given the electric dragoness. Somehow, she'd never been overly tired in the morning. That, or Roland hadn't noticed.

"...Fine." Ashlyn rolled her eyes and marched back into the cave. She seemed cross she hadn't gotten the position this time, but she needed the break, if only for tonight.

As the blue dragoness curled up and closed her eyes, Roland walked to Tris and told her to wake him next. He wanted to keep Ashlyn from having to wake up tonight. She definitely deserved at least that much for the work she'd done. He'd stay up for those extra hours Ashlyn would regularly get up for.

Tris agreed with the plan and suggested telling Myrtle, but the silence that came from him after told her all she needed to know. There was no point, she'd realised. Myrtle wouldn't go out of her way to speak directly to Ashlyn, to wake her up for her turn. She hadn't yet and she probably never would. She'd always approached either Roland or Tris.

The yellow dragoness regarded the other girls, at a loss for what to say. He felt the same way. He'd seen so many moments where they had been in the same conversation but had refused to acknowledge each other. This ignorance of each other was beginning to get under his scales. It was better than aggression, but it annoyed him to no end that his friends couldn't get along.

Any attempt to rectify this would be hopeless, he knew. At this point, it was a problem he couldn't force himself into. It was more complex than a simple conversation.

If only Myrtle could give Ashlyn another chance. Myrtle knew who the real killer was, she understood Ashlyn's plight, and she was already willing to tolerate her. It was just the thought of Carolin's...

He decided to leave it there and say goodnight to Tris. He paced back inside and snuggled up in Fluffy's fur, quickly dozing off.

* * *

As much as the thought of a city inhabited solely by dragonkind rubbed him the wrong way, Roland couldn't deny its magnificent appearance. Shimmervale lay before him, a wide plane of towering stone spires and giant mansions fit for thousands and thousands of dragons. His kin flocked around him and soared through the open air, adding colour on his way to the city, something Shimmervale sorely lacked otherwise. Chatter buzzed in his earholes and the scent of freshly baked and fried goods wafted through the air, combining with the faint but familiar smoky smell he'd grown accustomed to in Firemore, of spirit gems burning and boiling to produce power.

Buildings around the watchtowers were distributed sparsely, and grew thicker and linked together as he walked further; he and his friends had just passed the towers on the path into the city. Roland was surprised to learn that Shimmervale had no wall, unlike Warfang and Firemore. Whereas those two cities had been built similarly, a product of coming from the same time period, Shimmervale had a difference in the way it was structured. It was layered like some huge, uneven cake, stretching higher and higher, constantly thinning until it reached the top-centre. He couldn't see much beyond the ground districts – the rest of the city faded into a sea of smoke and steam produced by gem refineries and factories in the middle layers.

Before he'd entered, Roland had realised why so many people were outside of the inner city: markets busied Shimmervale's outer ring. Thousands of dragons perused colourful stalls, devoured sweets and meats, and laughed and marvelled at entertainers on the sides of the paths.

"This feels weird," Myrtle said as she looked over the stalls; she was doing a bad job of hiding the way she was eyeballing the stringed instruments in one of them. "Kinda feels like we're back home again."

Indeed, it was a strange feeling for Roland to hear that noise, to take in the vibrant array of dragons, to sniff at the air and breathe the scent of a city. He'd once been used to it, but his life for a while now had been so barren of people. It was jarring to be back in the bustle of civilisation.

"I was expecting something different." Tris frowned at what was before her. "I don't know how to explain it. Something less like... _this_? I thought it would be more militaristic, on account of keeping anybody who isn't a dragon away from here, but it's way more... _fun-looking._ People look really happy. It's odd."

"I agree," Ashlyn replied. She kept her voice low. "But this place... I-it still irks me. I know they had a revolution and went through a fair deal twenty years ago, but I don't think that's a good enough reason to ban most of the world from their city. It's like an exclusive club, but it's also just racist."

Roland snorted at the way she'd put it, even if she hadn't meant it to be humorous. Very fitting, he thought. "I haven't heard much about what happened here. What do you know about it, Ash?"

"Not much, I'm afraid. Dragons were treated unfairly and they, um... o-overthrew the lord, who was a... cheetah, I believe? And... I think some guy called Darak is in charge now. That's about it. You'd have to ask somebody else. Maybe we can ask Wren later on. S-sorry, Roland."

"Nah, I can't expect you to be a lore expert on everything." He'd make sure he talked to Wren about it. He wasn't fond of being confused.

As Roland and crew entered the centre of the market district, a large square packed with people, a red dragon approached them. He was slightly taller than them, and wore a steel helmet that fit his broad face and horns; Roland would've thought he was a guard, but it seemed most people here wore some kind of accessory, usually a helmet or bracers. It was like staring at a thousand dragons wearing a single set of armour. He reckoned it was a fashion trend, if an odd one. It was strange, but it wasn't like that helmet didn't look bad on him. Roland thought it was kind of attractive...

The dragon stopped in front of them, a deep frown creasing his features. "Kids? Shouldn't you be in school?"

Roland was taken aback by the assumption. Of course, it was a weekday! Children weren't supposed to wander the streets at this time, especially not the world. He'd seen other dragons as tall as him around, but they'd all looked around the eighteen mark. "Uh, we're–"

"No, we're not," Myrtle replied snappily. She glared in a way that was very unlike her, probably in an attempt to save everyone's hides. "Very bold of you to think that."

The dragon was surprised by her sharp tongue. "O-oh, sorry. I should've noticed the satchels; you're obviously travellers. No kid would walk all the way here. You're just young-looking, then."

"Yeah. Now buzz off." Myrtle waved him off with a claw. "We have shit to do."

The dragon nodded once and shuffled away. Roland was impressed Myrtle had deflected that issue so masterfully.

"What a pushover." Myrtle laughed and started moving again. "C'mon. Let's keep going."

Tris strode up behind her. "Where _are_ we going? What do we want to do?"

"We can explore the market for now," Roland answered. He looked around, through the murky sea of dragons, and towards the stalls around the square. He caught a glint in the corner of his eye, a flash of lustrous metal. "And... I think I see something I wanna check out."

He turned away from his group and weaved through the crowd to get a better look at the shop. Beyond a large wooden desk and a cloth roof striped blue and white were several sets of full draconic armour. Each torso was composed of hundreds of steel scales interlinked, and the pieces worn on the legs and spine were rimmed with gold. The helmet worn on the head of the stand was what fascinated him the most; the edge was gilded with gold and a short iron horn shaped into the helmet protruded from the front, making it stand out.

"Armour?" Myrtle looked bemused. "That's what got your attention?"

"That dragon was wearing a piece," he said. "It looked good on him."

He'd always wondered what it was like to wear a suit of armour. Maybe if life hadn't gone the way it had and he hadn't spent the majority of his time as a petty criminal, he might've gotten to experience it.

Looking at the armour reminded him of Firemore, too. Of home.

"I-I think it's a _little_ too big for you, Roland," Ashlyn said. The dragon behind the counter lifted the helmet off the stand Roland had his eyes on and handed it to another dragon. The appearance of the set was ruined now, Roland thought. The headgear had been the piece that completed it.

"It reminds me of Drevon," Roland uttered quietly. Tris, who was standing next to him, was puzzled at the statement. He needed to elaborate. "He was always interested in war and combat. Lingrad this, and Assembly that. He would've loved looking at this..."

"He'll be able to once we save him." Ashlyn, thankfully, rescued the conversation from becoming too saddening.

Roland decided to put on a smile, to lighten the mood he'd accidentally created. "I've always wanted to try on a set, too. But you're right, Ash, they're _way_ too big for me. That armour could fit three of me."

Tris giggled. "I could _so_ make something like this. If only I had a forge..."

" _Sure_ you could," Myrtle playfully challenged.

The yellow dragoness smirked and her gaze turned confident as they started moving away from the stall and back into the crowded centre. "Try me, Myrtle."

After wandering the markets for a while, they soon realised that, other than the accessories most wore and the peculiar layout of the city, Shimmervale was pretty normal. If not for the glances from onlookers, probably because of their age, it would've been a regular walk through town.

Several things snared Roland's attention, things he knew he couldn't purchase or easily purloin. He usually moved on, but there was one item in particular that lured him over like a glow bug to an ember and kept his interest still and firm.

It was held in a strange, lonely little stall, full of haphazardly chosen bits and bobs. It was most likely a personal collection, and the old orange dragoness behind the counter was probably trying to rid herself of her junk. There were books and trinkets and jewels, but hidden in the corner, a silk handkerchief draped over it, was what Roland recognised as a typewriter. Roland didn't exactly want to be making attention, considering the reactions of the people seeing him and his friends so far, but he couldn't help himself and walked over. He needed to get a closer look at the thing.

He rose onto his hind legs, grabbed onto the edge of the wooden counter, and peered over. The old lady gave a warm smile and adjusted the spectacles resting upon the bridge of her snout.

"Hello, there," her breathy voice came. "It's been a while since I had a customer. What can I do for you?"

"That's a typewriter up there, isn't it?" His friends walked up behind him, curious what he was looking for. "I've only ever seen them in books."

"Ah, you fancy a bit of writing? I did try the thing, but it's not for me." The dragoness turned around and grabbed the small mechanism, chucking the handkerchief away. She placed it on the counter facing Roland. "It's different to your usual typewriter. This one was custom-made for me to be extremely portable, back when I did a lot of travelling, but I have no use for it now."

"Portable?" he repeated. It was already compact; he could fit it inside his satchel if he discarded some of his spirit gems. The old lady nodded and lifted a tiny lever on the side. Roland watched in intrigue as she folded it in half, turning it into a metallic box. "That's really cool. Can I try writing something on it?"

"Certainly," she replied and opened the typewriter again. She grabbed a slip of parchment from a box and slotted it into the gizmo. Roland had felt the temptation to snatch it while her back was turned, but in this crowd of people there was no way he could escape without being caught in the act. The old lady probably didn't deserve it either. "Have a go. Just press the buttons."

Roland pressed his toe down on one of the keys and watched as the ink was pressed onto the paper. He felt himself smiling at the simplicity of it, and tapped a few more, eventually spelling out his name. Oh, the things he could do with one of these! If he learnt to use it more effectively, he could write a story in a fraction of the time he'd spent previously.

He _really_ wanted it.

"How much is it?" Roland looked back up at the stall owner.

"You're gonna use your money on _that_?" Myrtle questioned. "I know you love writin' shit, but..."

"It's five hundred copper pieces," the old dragoness said. He felt his maw part at the price, but it was only expected. This was relatively new technology and this one had a fancy storage feature to boot.

Roland pushed it back towards her. "I can do fifty copper."

"Very funny." She grinned. "Now run off to school, kids. You're running late."

Roland and his friends walked away. He felt a little down he couldn't wrap his paws around that thing any longer, but it didn't matter much. There were far more important things at stake than his writing career. A typewriter wasn't going to help him cure Drevon.

Tris' gaze wandered over the crowd of people, at the looks they were being given. "These glances are really starting to make me uncomfortable..."

"And you'll prob'ly be gettin' plen'y more if ya gonna run aroun' durin' school hours."

The four dragons whipped around in perfect union; a bulky dragon in light armour, much more akin to what a guard would wear than some fashion accessory, faced them, a frown furrowing his deep features. His armour fit him too tightly, the straps worn and ready to burst apart.

"Yeah, tha's right. I caught ya," the guard said, a smirk on his face. Roland was too shocked to do anything. "Whatcha doin' out here, kids? Have I gotta escort ya to school mahself?"

"We ain't kids!" Myrtle exclaimed. "Just young-lookin'!"

"Pfft, can't fool me." His deep voice came in heavy laughter. "What's in the satchels, kids? Whatcha tryna hide from me?"

"W-what? Y-you can't just go through our belongings." Ashlyn gripped the bag by her side. The bulky dragon before them shook his head.

"By Shimmervale law, you're wrong." The guard held out a paw towards Myrtle. "Hand over the satchel, kid. Make it easy."

Roland glanced behind him, in search of an escape, but everywhere he looked there seemed to be a guard. They were hiding it well, but they had his group surrounded. There was no easy escape from the six or so guards here. Why in the name of the Ancestors were there so many? They were just a group of kids, sauntering along! Why were they taking this so seriously?

"Ugh, fine." Myrtle ripped her satchel off her neck and pressed it into the guard's outstretched paw. "Don't have shit in there anyway."

The guard had only dug around for a second before he found another reason to laugh heartily. "You kids are actually hilarious." He pulled out one of Myrtle's spirit gems. "Ya don't have anythin', ya say? What the bloody hell is _this_ , then?"

"That's... a spirit gem?" Tristana answered, confused. What did this have to do with anything?

"Yeah, somethin' TOTALLY ILLEGAL." The taller dragon looked to be getting impatient now. Roland couldn't understand. He briefly wondered if he was being stupid. "Ya can't have these without a permit. And last I checked, you whelps ain't fuckin' doctors! By the look'a that crystallisation, you're obviously abusin' these things."

Roland had forgotten again that Myrtle was having trouble with her crystallising wings, but now wasn't an appropriate time to bring it up to her. "What's wrong with spirit gems?"

"You can't be serious!" The guard dropped the satchel on the ground and put a paw to his face. Myrtle snatched her gem-filled satchel away. "These are _drugs_! Illicit substances! What are ya? Tourists?"

"Well... yeah!" Tris' face contorted to a mixture of puzzlement and panic. Were they actually getting arrested for this? "We're travellers!"

"Yeah, yeah, I find that hard to believe. What sorta kid would be wanderin' the wilds? A couple'a little whelps like you would'a been eaten by death hounds by now."

"We have our reasons," Roland said. "Have you heard about what happened to Firemore?"

"What? That big ol' place full'a sinners? Haven't heard from that place in _years_!"

"Well, it blew up!" he explained. He wasn't sure what _sinners_ was supposed to mean. "We're some of the survivors."

The dragon itched at his head and seemed shocked for a moment. And then, without warning, he burst into another predictable bout of laughter. "Yeah, likely story. Prob'ly the drugs affectin' ya brain. C'mon, ya bunch of nobodies." The guard gestured them forwards. "We're goin' to the barracks. Gonna let the cap' deal with ya."

"Th-this is insane!" Ashlyn complained. "This–"

"Oh, shuddup. I'll muzzle ya if I have to."

That made her maw seize up. Stripping away a dragon's speech and their breath weapon was indescribably disrespectful. Roland couldn't believe this total arse wipe.

As they got moving, so did the surrounding guards. Roland glanced every which way in a search for an escape, but his attempts were in vain. There was no way he could make a getaway, with his friends in tow especially. He'd only end up making the problem they'd run into worse.

He was at least thankful he wasn't going to have to spend too long here. Once he'd spoken to Wren and boarded a boat, he was out of Shimmervale for good.

* * *

The barracks were a set of four towering spires towards the middle of the city, complete with an empty field in the back for training purposes. Each tower was built in cylindrical compartments, each thinning in stature, creating a sort of lanky pyramid. The roof sat atop the final layer spread its wings far, though, shadowing the rest of the building. Its cone shape ended in a narrow point, pricking low clouds.

Roland would've said it was magnificent, definitely for what was supposed to be only barracks, but the plump guard in front of them blocked the glorious view.

"Yep. It's amazin', ain't it?" the guard said, impressed by the sight like he hadn't seen it thousands of times. Roland and his friends didn't respond or move an inch. "C'mon, kids. I ain't got all mornin'. I need my paycheck."

Was that all this was for, all he cared about? The money? Roland felt it was almost like they were being sold to the barracks.

Well, it wasn't like he could say anything about doing things for copper, being a thief and all...

The guard pushed the two heavy doors open, uncovering the inside. The entry was short – the larger dragon's great horns nearly nicked the ceiling with each step. Organised along the stone brick walls were awards, certificates and trophies. They honoured deceased soldiers for things like bravery and strength on the field. Roland wasn't sure of Shimmervale's contributions to the war overseas, but he suspected many of these fallen comrades had met their ends there. These deaths had been fairly recent.

The other guards following behind hassled him to go further. After watching Myrtle try to decipher what one of the documents meant, Roland nudged her forward and they stepped into the main room.

There was a female dragon behind a counter, paw to her cheek, reading over a stack of papers in front of her. Her scales were a light shade of grey. Roland had never seen a greyscale in real life; the only one he'd ever taken note of was Octavia. She was similar in appearance, though much shorter than most dragons her age.

She looked up from her pile of work when she heard the fat guard's thudding paws, and had a look of confusion about her when she saw the four kids trailing behind him.

"Dustin?" she spoke. "Who are these children?"

"Troublemakers," Dustin said simply. "Brought 'em here so you could deal with 'em, Milly."

"Ugh, what have I said about you calling me _Milly_?" The greyscale got up with a fatigued sigh and paced over, feet dragging along the floor. "It's Amilia. Get it right."

"R-right. Sorry, Amilia."

The other guards shuffled out of the room, towards a door on the right of the desk, probably going out for their lunch break. It was noon already; walking through the city had taken a while.

"Is this worth my time?" Amilia asked as she stopped in front of them. Roland was only a few inches shorter than her. For a dragon probably around one hundred years of age, she was exceptionally tiny. "What have these kids done that's so bad it warrants my attention?"

"Spirit gems," Dustin told her. "They were attemptin' to bring 'em in. Their satchels are full'a them. I'd wager they wanted to share 'em around and turn a profit."

Roland was stunned. "What are you even–"

"You kids are travellers, aren't you?" Amilia rubbed her baggy eyes and yawned lowly. "That's why you have spirit gems?"

"Yeah," Myrtle answered for them all. "We just wanted to come to Shimmervale."

"And then we were taken away by this guy," Tris said. "We were just wandering the markets. We were on our way to, um..."

"The Shattered Vale. Soon." Roland smiled as he continued for her. He didn't think Amilia needed to know about their plans to sail to Dante's Freezer. "We were gonna take a break here and then get going."

"Oh, c'mon, this is stupid," Dustin complained. "Kids wouldn't be travellin' the–"

"After the incident in Firemore, I wouldn't be surprised," Amilia said. She put a paw to her face and exhaled. "We've seen quite a few kids roaming the city recently. A number of them had that same excuse. I'm sorry you four had to go through this. And you, Dustin..." She then pointed an accusing claw at Dustin. Dustin leaned back, frightened by the smaller dragon's terrifying gaze. Roland shivered and he wasn't even the target. "You need to stop bringing me _nothing cases_. I know you and your comrades are just trying to take advantage of the detain bonus, but I have enough shit to deal with as is. A few kids not in school is nothing compared to the amount of murder and terrible people on my desk right now."

Roland was glad this had been dealt with so quickly, but he was surprised in a way, too. She was letting them go very easily. It was clear she was too busied by her more important work to care much about their 'crimes'. Amilia lost it quickly, but she seemed to cheer up a little at the relief he and his companions were clearly showing.

"Just a few things before I let you go, though..." Amilia sat on her haunches. "Firstly, you can't have spirit gems. Dustin's at least right on that. They _are_ illegal here. You can only have them with a permit, and it's basically only the doctors and the factories that have those. Just for carrying them into the city, you could be gaoled for a little while, but you're kids and you obviously didn't know any better so I'll let you off the hook. Just hand them over, please."

It was reasonable, Roland guessed, to ban a potentially very dangerous substance. Spirit gems weren't exactly needed by the majority of citizens. Doctors were more than capable of administering them.

He reached into his satchel and dug out every gem he had, if a little unwillingly. Everybody else followed through, with the exception of Myrtle, who hesitated.

"Will I... get them back when we leave?" Myrtle faltered. She had her wings low to the ground, the glint of her crystallisation hidden from Amilia's view.

Amilia shook her head. "No, these gems will be destroyed. After having cases of gems being tampered with in harmful ways, its law to dispose of them. I doubt you kids would do anything like that, but I don't want to lose my job. Sorry if they meant something to you."

Myrtle usually did a good job of hiding her feelings, but not now. Her reflection stared at her through the crystal, her muzzle wavering in uncertainty. Roland knew how much she relied on them, but she could go a few days without them, surely. She really needed to start using less if there was going to be any hope of healing her wings anyway. He probably should've made sure he grabbed the ones Darryl had given her. He'd had too many things to deal with; it hadn't run through his mind.

He tapped the green dragoness on the shoulder. Finally, she let the first go with a quiet sigh and started digging for more.

"Alright," Amilia began once more. "Secondly, we can't really have kids running around. You're supposed to be in a school, but you're heading to the Shattered Vale... Can I ask why you're headed there?"

"Family," Roland answered quickly. He thought it was believable enough. "We're... heading to Warfang first, though. That's why we took the long way around. We all have family waiting for us."

Amilia nodded once. "Okay. Unfortunately, we're not as laid-back as some other parts of the world. If you're going to be staying here, you're going to need to follow the rules of all children. You're going to–"

"That will _not_ be necessary."

Roland whipped around to that familiar tone, eyes landing on the ice Guardian as he walked through the entry of the barracks. Amilia shot upright, straightening out her slumped back. Her gaze widened and she seemed to lose the confidence she'd originally had. Dustin had since left the room, probably in shame.

"Hello, Amilia," Wren greeted, ducking his head beneath the door. "And to you, Roland."

"Wr-Wren!" Her exhaustion totally disappeared in the presence of the ice Guardian. Myrtle and Tris, who'd been confused by this new arrival, understood now. Roland was thankful for the sudden intrusion. "F-f-fancy seeing you here!"

"You're shorter than I imagined." Wren chuckled slightly. "From all those letters you sent, I thought you would be... _bigger_."

Amilia's excitement seemed to slip for a bit of disappointment. "W-well, I... s-sorry, I mean–"

"That's no matter." Wren turned around to look at Roland. "It's a pleasure to see you, young dragon. You as well, Ashlyn. And your... _other_ friends?"

"This is Myrtle." Roland pointed at the green dragoness. She waved as she was introduced. "And this is Tristana, but you can just call her Tris."

"Hmm." Wren bowed his head. "I wasn't expecting to see you so soon. I guess this was good timing, though. Amilia, let these four run free. They're with me."

"W-well, I can't just let them go without–"

"Then let's say I'm homeschooling them," Wren interrupted, tapping his foot impatiently. "And tell your guards to not come after them for existing here. They're to be treated as adults."

"I..." Amilia's tiredness seeped through her expression once again. "Okay. Guardian's word is of utmost importance."

"I don't mean to hassle you," Wren said. "And I apologise for my... impatience. This is just very important."

"It's okay. I'll deal with it." Amilia returned to her desk and began flicking over her papers again. "I'll get to it soon. Right after I go through this."

"Thank you." Wren issued the four dragons to follow him. "Now, let's leave this place."

The Guardian of ice led them outside again and down the street for a while before coming to a more quiet spot. They ducked into an alleyway where their words wouldn't be heard. Roland took a seat against the wall while Wren checked to make sure others hadn't followed their lead. This area of the city wasn't vastly populated by others, so Roland was certain nobody had.

"I should've remembered that kids like you would have to follow the rules of the city. I'm so used to being a Guardian now that many don't apply to me." Wren sat before them all. "I've become accustomed to ordering others around instead. I'm sorry, Roland."

"Meh." He ignored the mistake. Nothing of note had come of that brief interaction with the law, excluding the confiscation of their spirit gems. Not a terrible loss by any means. They probably should've left some with Fluffy in hindsight. "How did you find us?"

"I have a meeting with Amilia today, but she doesn't know that yet. Very convenient, yes?"

Roland snickered. "Yeah. Anyway... How am I getting Drevon back?"

Wren shook his head. "This is not the time nor the place. We'll need total privacy and our conversations will be long ones. I can't tell you everything you need to know in one sitting. That is how... _complex_ this is."

Roland's determination had been gunned down for now, but it made sense. Rescuing Drevon wasn't going to be an easy process, as much as he'd made it out to be. He was beginning to have a more pragmatic approach to the problems that arose. He couldn't rely on something he only had _hope_ would work anymore. Things were getting serious and he needed to treat them as such. Roland was willing to seize this opportunity as long as it gave him a better shot at getting his best friend back than the means he'd been considering before.

"How can we trust you?" Myrtle asked. Tris kept quiet, as if in silent awe to be in the presence of a Guardian, but her face also manifested the same distrust.

Wren gave a grunt of understanding. "I'm risking my life to help you, you realise? If the other Guardians knew a time dragon existed and could stop the purple dragon, they would want them eliminated immediately. If I was on their side, Roland would be dead where he stands. He wouldn't have made it to Shimmervale, and I can almost guarantee that you would've been eliminated as well for being an accomplice. The other Guardians believe in a new world and slowly Shimmervale is being converted also. A new factor in their plans would be dealt with accordingly."

The thought of people wanting him dead made Roland shudder. Even as the infamous Red Rodent, he doubted people had wanted him to die.

He was so much more than that now...

"What made you change?" Tris questioned. Wren considered her question for a moment, but he once again gave a shake of the head.

"Unfortunately, that would take a great deal of time to explain, longer than I have here. I have many tasks to do today and I don't want to deviate from the schedule. My brother, the Guardian of fire, doesn't take kindly to that. We'll still meet on Wednesday in the morning, though. I can answer all of your questions there."

"Well, I-I guess we shouldn't keep you, then," Ashlyn said. "We have our own things to do today. We're probably going to head to the docks soon."

"Alright then. If you're heading somewhere, I would suggest going either before school has started or after it has ended. That way people won't look at you as though you're a truant." Wren stood and brushed off his sides. "Good day. See you soon, Roland."

Wren strolled away, headed towards the barracks to see Amilia again. Roland watched him for a while, then released the deep breath he had stored.

This was actually happening now. Roland felt his scales prickle, his heart drumming a quicker beat, the back of his neck tingle. He was finally on his way to getting Drevon back.

Now that everything was truly falling into place, his nerves were starting to get the better of him. He was excited to learn how to get his friend back, but he was so scared at the same time...

"Hope, Roland," he mouthed. "Just have a little hope. You'll get him back soon."

* * *

As the sky turned a golden-brown and the feathery snowfall finally came to a halt for the day, Roland and his companions arrived at the docks. Roland set foot on the leftmost timber pier spearing through the ice-dotted ocean. Boats of varying proportions lined the side of the bridge, the smaller ones on the path he was walking down, the bigger ones on the next few bridges over. They groaned and creaked in the water, as though wanting out. A building on a platform a ways ahead floated on the water, one that could probably only fit two adult dragons.

"I'm gonna take a wild guess and say we need to check in with whoever's in there," Myrtle said. "The sign back there said these boats were for sale, but the prices ain't written anywhere. The dragon inside's probably not sure on exact prices, I'd say. Might get to haggle."

"I don't think we can trust you to haggle, Myrtle," Tristana replied with a grin on her face. "Remember that one person back in Midrun that raised the price when–"

"That was just the one time! I'll impress you this time. Stop teasin' me."

"Aww... But it's _fun_..."

Roland had no clue what they were on about, but the jocular interaction made him happy. What would he do without these people? What would it be like going at this alone?

Thankfully, it wasn't something he needed to think about.

They closed in on the building. The door was shut and he couldn't see the glow of a light through the windows. He hadn't thought about whether the shop would be closed or not. This was quite important, though, so it was probably a good idea to check just in case. He raised a paw and prepared to knock on the timber.

"Uh, w-wait, it says it's not open." Ashlyn read a small sign hastily bolted to the wall before her. "It's... not open right now. They say they'll be back next Friday."

"Really?" Roland exclaimed. "Next Friday?"

"Welp. That sucks." Tris shrugged. "Oh well. We're not leaving for a while anyway. We have to see Wren first."

"We _could_ steal a boat..." Roland stood over the edge of the bridge, peering down at a ship that'd caught his eye. When he took note of the guards, though, he knew that would be impossible. They'd capture him before he could get the fibre binds holding it down undone. "Nah, we'd never make it out without being caught."

"Eh, I doubt the boats are _that_ expensive anyway." Myrtle turned around. "Let's go, then. We should probably get back to Fluffy before he starts screaming for us."

It wasn't a problem. They had plenty of time to spend. Like Tris said, they weren't leaving for at least a few days yet.

He just had to hope Drevon wouldn't get to the monolith in Dante's Freezer before they could sail there. If he saw a flash of colour in the sky, he'd have to figure out where the next one was, and then he'd be stuck again.

They stepped off the pier and back onto the yellow grass. Roland led the way, walking back the way they'd come. He wished they could fly like those few dragons up high, but with Myrtle's crystallisation, there was no chance. He wasn't going to abandon her in the city for a quicker flight back.

Roland kept moving until he noticed only two sets of paws following him. He stopped and turned around, finding Tristana hadn't moved off the bridge yet. She was squinting elsewhere, her scaly brow wrinkled.

"What are you looking at?" Ashlyn called to her.

Tris turned around to them. "I... see something. Can we go over there and check?"

"Uh... sure?" Roland started heading back towards her, Ashlyn and Myrtle right behind him. Tris started trotting and Roland had to quicken his pace to keep up with her.

They followed the wall holding the Southern Sea at bay. They zigzagged around buildings overlooking the sparkling waves in a hurry to catch Tris, who kept speeding up. Roland wondered what had gotten her so excited.

Almost as soon as they'd started running, Tris stopped. Roland skidded to a halt beside her and looked at what had captured her interest. The beating of a hammer on iron came forth when he listened and, after that paused for a brief time, he heard a sound like grinding. Firelight shone through an open door. A steep chimney rose out of the building, puffing smoke in short bursts.

"A blacksmith?" he asked. She nodded, a smile spreading across her face.

"I'm... going to check this out." Tris padded away again. Myrtle promptly went after her, not a moment of indecision on her part. Roland and Ashlyn exchanged a glance before running for them.

They stepped under the building's stone roof. There wasn't much outside, only a workbench piled high with scraps of metal and little nails, an unused, gleaming anvil, and a silver bell held in a net on one of the wooden pillars holding the roof up. There was writing above the bell carved into the beam that read 'ring me for attention.'

Tris gave him and the others a look, as if to ask them if she should ring it or not. Roland gave an unsure nod. He didn't know what to expect, but it wasn't like their time was scarce. They could talk to this blacksmith for a while. It'd probably make Tris happy.

Tris lifted the bell out of the net and gave it a good few rings. Roland heard metal clang inside the building and then footsteps inside.

"Just gimme a sec!" a male voice called. "I just gotta... There!"

Something heavy thudded against a surface inside. Tris took a few steps back. Her maw had opened, apparently in shock. Was this tone familiar to her?

Long, sluggish steps sounded from within. A heavy boot emerged from the corner, oddly not belonging to a dragon. Then a tall, muscly atlawa stepped into view, one of the bipedal llama people from Tall Plains. His fur was white but blackened by grease, and his brow was all sweaty. Baggy pants covered his legs and an apron was worn over his chest. He held a rusty hammer in his hand. Roland's attention shifted to his eyes – or _eye_ , he realised after his error, because one of the orbs in his skull was missing, replaced by a grey, metallic object of some kind.

The llama cleared his throat. "What can I do for..."

He seemed to notice Tristana's shocked stare after a moment. Without any warning, his mouth fell open, too.

"Ale?" Tris spoke after a while. The atlawa rubbed his eye, as though to check it wasn't deceiving him. The hammer clutched in his hand fell, smashing against the ground.

"Tris?"

"Oh my..." Tris ran forward, straight for him. "Ale!"

"Holy–" Ale didn't get a chance to say anything else. Tris leaped into the air, straight into his outstretched arms. He was knocked back a few paces, into the wall of the building, but held himself steady.

Roland was confused until he thought about it some more. He'd heard the name before somewhere. Ale...

 _Ale_...

Oh, this was Alevor, the llama she'd been doing her blacksmith work with! She'd told him about the atlawa all those weeks ago when they were still travelling to Midrun. Roland felt his maw widen at the sudden reunion.

"I-I thought you died!" Tris said as she wrapped her paws around his neck, her eyes dampening. Alevor held onto her with all his might. Even if it was an awkward hold, he didn't seem to care much. "You were closer to the explosion than me! I-I'm so happy to see you're okay!

"And I you," Alevor squeezed her tight. Tris eventually hopped off, her grin unwavering. "I was very lucky. T'was devastating. But seeing you okay has made that day feel much brighter."

Tris rubbed her eyes. "I didn't think you would make it..."

"Aye, neither did I." Alevor brushed off his apron. He observed Roland and the other dragonesses. "And these must be some new friends. Hello."

"Myrtle, Ashlyn, and Roland." She pointed to each as she said their names. "This is Alevor, guys."

"She's told me about you. You taught her everything she knows." Roland reached out with a paw. Alevor gripped it tightly, harder than Roland expected, and gave it a hefty shake. "Oh, geez, y-you're strong!"

His laugh was deep and friendly. "Hammering away at iron will do that to you. Nice to meet you, Roland. I have a feeling I've seen you before, though..."

"Oh, uh..." He ran a paw through his frills. "Yeah. Maybe you've heard of the Red Rodent?"

"Aye, that's it." Alevor nodded. "Master thief of the market square. Never stole anything from me, though, so I don't have a problem with you."

"He was kinda forced to resign," Myrtle said with a chuckle. Roland didn't think he'd totally _given up_ on thievery. It was still a thrilling thing to do. He just hadn't had a good opportunity to in a while. His journey was sort of taking up all his spare time. "Tris has told me all about you, too. You must've been pretty close."

Tris giggled, placing her paw on his side. "He's basically a second dad. I love him."

"And she's the best apprentice I could've ever asked for." Alevor gave her a pat on the head with his gloved hands. "Speaking of fathers, though... Where's Harper?"

Nobody could muster the words after that. Tris shifted uncomfortably at the mention, her smile gone. Alevor gave a quick nod a few seconds after, in realisation of his mistake.

"Ah, I see." The llama picked his hammer up from the ground. He tested its weight in his hands for a while before looking back up.

"I-it's not like _that_ ," Ashlyn told him. "Something... _else_ happened."

"I won't ask." Alevor's hammer rattled the scrap metal and nails as he set it down on his workbench. "Must've been a hard trip getting here. You probably need a break from the bad stuff."

"Well, uh... speaking of trips," Myrtle started, "how did you get here? And how _are_ you here? Thought this place was dragons only."

"Aye, I knew you would be confused. See this badge?" He lifted a tiny circular disc from his apron's pocket. Its face was a colourful depiction of Shimmervale's emblem – of course, the emblem was the head of a dragon – and there was a pin on the back for attaching it to clothing. "This is from Darak himself. I have special permission to be here. Being the friend of a leader has its benefits. And I came on my ship, if you couldn't tell."

The atlawa aimed their attention towards another pier, where a ship floated in the water. It was a sizeable wooden vessel painted in a messy coat of white. Roland could see spare tools and other things not in Alevor's shop strewn about the deck randomly.

"It's been a few weeks since I got here. I can't imagine walking all the way like you four must have." He took a seat on the chair and wiped a hand over his forehead. "Did you come through Everlost Forest?"

"Yeah," Tris answered.

"Eerie place, that one." He looked out towards the sky, the vibrant orange deepening. "Hmm... It's getting late."

"We should probably run along," Myrtle said. "We need to get back to our... pet."

"I see. I should get around to closing up shop anyway." He turned his gaze to Tris. "Make sure you come back. I'd like to catch up some more."

"Of course!" She grinned. "I have so much to talk to you about."

"Alright then." Alevor gave a wave. "Talk to you all later. It's been nice meeting you."

Everybody uttered their goodbyes. Roland and his group got a move on. He hadn't seen Tris smiling so much before. Unfortunately, she wouldn't have much time to see Alevor, but she probably already knew that. It must've been good for her to see him alive and well.

The first day of Shimmervale was over and it'd already been so eventful. How would they fare the next few days?


	30. Time to Spare

Time to Spare

The next few days weren't nearly as action-packed as their introduction to Shimmervale, weirdly enough. Roland felt like they were too slow. Mostly they wandered the city, chatting, sightseeing, and making plans. They'd gone to see Alevor a couple more times – Tris had spent much of her time catching up and talking about what she loved with him, the art of the smith.

Thankfully, they weren't harassed by any more guards. He would've decided to heed Wren's advice and head back to their cave in the woods before school started, just in case, but their conversations with Alevor had gone on a little longer than intended. The looks he received on his way out of the city were getting on his nerves, though he couldn't blame Tris for wanting to spend as much time as possible with the llama.

He was glad to come back to the hollow he'd called home everyday, to relax his mind and body against his giant pile of fluff. The previous day, he would've kept Fluffy company if not for his friends convincing him to come along. He wished he hadn't listened, because that day had ended up being a whole bunch of nothing. Alevor hadn't been around and Roland was now used to the city, so the sights no longer filled him with amazement.

Today, though, was far different. Today was Wednesday, the day of his meeting with the Guardian of ice. He was up bright and early. After taking a quick wash to make himself more presentable for the Guardian, he clapped his paws together and woke everybody up.

 _Finally_. He was _finally_ going to learn how to stop Drevon and get him back. Everything was _finally_ coming together. Things were _finally_ looking up.

The feeling was amazing, yet oh so nerve-wracking.

He was going to confront Drevon soon. All sorts of concerns came forth. What if, in spite of his best efforts, Drevon reached the monolith before he did? What if Drevon didn't listen? What if the red dragon died in a futile attempt to stop him?

He had to barge those thoughts aside. Whatever Wren taught him was supposed to work. He trusted in that.

Of course, there was the chance Wren couldn't be trusted after all. The conversation back at the cliff led him to believe he could have faith in him, but he couldn't be so trusting so easily again, not after what he'd experienced with Harper.

"Are you okay, Roland?" Ashlyn called.

Roland looked ahead; Ashlyn was waiting for him to catch up. Tris and Myrtle had walked on together, deep in their own discussion, smiling and laughing.

"You look like you have a lot on your mind." Ashlyn slowed her pace to match his as he caught up. "I-I mean... I-I don't blame you. I do, too."

Roland exhaled a lungful of air, a sigh of mixed emotion. "Yeah, I do. I'm happy, scared, and excited all at the same time. This is actually happening now and I'm finding it difficult to grasp. I... might have my best friend back soon."

" _Will_ ," she said. Roland snorted at the correction. "We will get him back. Mark my words."

"You've been way more confident than usual." He was glad for that, too. Morale was important and she was doing a good job of providing it.

Ashlyn leaned away slightly, her head bent down. She giggled in an almost embarrassed way. "W-well... I took some of the pointers you gave me and I've been applying them myself." Her expression turned thankful as her gaze ambled along the grass and returned to him. "I've been doing my best to look on the bright side. It feels better to do that than whatever I was doing before..."

"I'm glad I wasn't useless for once." He laughed – even if he'd meant it as a joke, his brain told him it held some truth. He decided not to listen to it, though.

"Useless..." she repeated with a frown. Then she gave a soft smile, realising he was only yanking her leg. "You mean, not you at all?"

"Nah, I'm right. I'm always right."

"And... b-by that logic, I think you would never be _useless_ ," Ashlyn finished with a victorious grin.

Roland was unsure how to respond – he'd been defeated in his own game. He pulled his dirtied scarf tight, the cold air on his scales inducing a shiver. "Welp. You've stumped me there. Uh... What's on your mind, Ash?"

She lifted her head. Her gaze hovered around the pair of dragonesses ahead, regretful and longing, but the optimism she'd adopted took hold of her again a silent moment later. "Things. I-I think you can take a guess. But I'm okay."

He didn't have to ask. "Yeah..."

"And... I'm also mad at you," she said with a hint of playfulness. Roland cocked his head in mock horror.

" _Really_? What for?"

"N-none of you woke me up for the watch last night! And... for the watch a couple nights before that, too! I-I know it wasn't a mistake, either. I saw you _c-conspiring_ with Tris!"

"Nah. Total accident, I'm certain. You probably needed the extra sleep, though." He tapped her leg and motioned forward. "Let's catch up. We're falling behind."

A quarter of an hour passed. They gathered at the front of the city and padded through the markets again, on their way to the next level of Shimmervale. Wren's home was located there – they'd figured that out earlier so they wouldn't have to search today. Roland had asked himself why Wren was _there_ of all places. Rookborough Avenue and the district as a whole was lower-class than he was expecting. It wasn't fit for a dragon of Wren's lofty status.

They walked the ornate steps to the higher level, passing dragons tall and short. Ashlyn checked her features in a reflective channel of water trenching the middle of the stairs. Roland followed her example, to be certain he'd scrubbed away the grime, but he was nowhere near as polished as her. Regrettably, his body was still marred by the cuts and scrapes the skurvywing had furnished it with, but he at least didn't have to wear those ill-favoured bandages anymore, and the scratches had faded with time. He was in a... _presentable_ condition, he felt.

They entered Rookborough Avenue, a broad street lined with a narrow garden of trees in the centre. The leaves had wilted, snow gathering on the branches and the city floor. Roland studied the houses in search of the number written on his slip of paper. They were large enough for a comfortable, lonely life, but were in no way grand like the rest of the city. He knew the general area Wren's house was, yet he had to look for it because the structures were mostly the same, all single-storey, plain stone buildings. They were unimportant in the face of the towering spires and mansions that fringed the roads of the districts higher up, but Roland found himself enjoying the humble atmosphere here more than the bold personality of elsewhere.

The road wasn't crowded with people, just an odd soul here or there, a few sweeping last night's snow away from their front doors with their tails, others issuing their children outside, prepared for a trip to school. Like everybody else, many of the parents wore singular pieces of armour as fashion accessories. Roland got a few odd looks from the parents, just as expected, seeing as he was heading away from the academies, but he didn't bother looking back. He felt the rising urge to look back at them like they were insane. There were more important things to heed than their stares, though.

Wren's house was close to the edge of the avenue, where the road fell off and gave way to the Southern Sea, blocked only by a fence and a stone bench. The air smelled heavily of salt, overpowering the unnatural odours leaking from the factories deeper inside the city. He could almost taste it on the tip of his tongue.

"Reminds me of Firemore..." he whispered to himself. Myrtle looked back at him with a frown, having not understood what he'd said. "Don't worry. It's nothing."

"'Kay. Better get your head out of the clouds, though, Roly. We're here."

Myrtle, who'd been leading the way, veered towards the house with everyone in tow. She wrapped her paw around the iron knocker attached to the door. Three solid bangs and half a minute later, the lock inside clicked, the rough knob swivelled, and the door came open, uncloaking the entry. Wren stood in front of them, staring straight ahead for a moment, but he promptly registered that his visitors were shorter than grown dragons.

"Oh, it's you," Wren said. "I was expecting somebody else earlier than you, but it seems they aren't showing up anymore. It's good to see you, Roland."

"It's _great_ to see you, too," Myrtle replied before Roland could, a trace of irony in her tone.

Wren didn't seem to take note of her sarcasm, though, or even that she was there at all. "Come in, come in. We have much to discuss. Close the door on your way in."

The entry was surprisingly bare. The stone walls weren't fissured by wear – Roland thought they were nice to brush his paw along – but they were plain and boring. The floor was made of uneven stone tiles that weren't pleasing to the eye. From the non-existent decor alone, Roland assumed this wasn't one of Wren's homes and instead a place he'd purchased recently to stay at in Shimmervale. Obviously Wren didn't mind the cheaper option right now, but his house back at Warfang was probably far grander than this.

Wren looked back as though to check they'd accompanied him. "I apologise for the emptiness, but I needed a home in a discrete location. It'll be better for us in the long run. We don't want to amass attention in the presence of the other Guardians, Roland."

"No," Roland agreed. "I'd rather not see them again."

"Me neither, but being one myself, I'm forced to _cooperate_ with them." Wren turned left at the T ahead of them. Each direction led to the same place, an open space lit via a single dangling bulb on the roof. There was a clock on the wall above a fireplace, and there were two piles of cushions contained in baskets an equal distance away from each other. One was large and the other was small. Roland realised the small one was probably for himself. He would've expected more, one basket for each of his companions, but apparently that wasn't the case.

Wren stopped in the centre of the room. "Make yourself at home. This is where we will spend the majority of our time together."

The way he put that – 'majority of our time' _–_ puzzled Roland. "What do you mean?"

Wren stepped into the larger basket of cushions and took his seat. "Hmm?"

"What do you mean by that? The majority of our time? I thought we were only going to be here for a little bit and then get going." He didn't take his seat yet. Myrtle seemed to realise there was no seat for her and took one of the pillows from Roland's basket, face twisted into mild distaste as though she'd foreseen this happening. The others followed her lead, Tris with a grimace and Ashlyn with an awkward smile.

"Yes, I know it would be preferable getting to your friend as quickly as possible," Wren started, "but there is much we need to talk about and much I need to teach you. An understanding of time magic on your end – and on mine, too – is needed to fully explain this."

"...Are you saying you didn't really know a way to get Drevon back?" Roland's whole body tensed. If he'd been led on this whole time and he was wasting the precious seconds he had...

Wren furiously shook his head. "Oh, heavens, no! I wouldn't dare waste your time. There is a way. I saw it in a pool of visions. But to fully comprehend what I'm seeing, I need a larger understanding of time magic. And I will teach you my understanding as it comes so you can utilise it when the time approaches."

"It makes sense," Tris said with an accepting look in her eyes. "The pool doesn't lie. You see prophecies in it and they're _always_ accurate. Obviously Wren needs to learn how time magic works to teach Roland how to get Drevon back, though. We can figure that out through experimentation."

"What if he didn't see anythin'?" Myrtle asked. "If he's just–"

"As I said, I _do not_ want to delay you," he intervened, growing impatient. "At that point, I'd just be helping the Guardians and, if that was the case, it would've been better to have you eliminated already."

Wren waited a moment for somebody to respond, but nobody did. The knot of frustration tied by their mistrust came loose in a sigh.

"You can _trust_ me. I'm not here to prevent you from getting to the purple dragon, but to help you when you do get to him." Wren's expression turned pleading. "I don't want this world to end. The other Guardians believe a new one will emerge where dragonkind is the leader after the Final Five devour all magic and 'reset' it. I don't want that. I don't want a repeat of Malefor..."

It took Roland a few more seconds to finally sit down and want to listen. He was still stiff from the scare Wren had given him, and he was still wary of him either way. He was certain Wren didn't want to hurt him, but all this was still very convenient.

He had to have faith in him, though. Wren definitely felt like he was trying to assist them, that much was sure. Myrtle still had that look of scepticism about her, but she didn't seem capable of drawing more reasons to feel that way at this time.

He was torn. He wasn't sure how to feel right now. If he was going to be spending more time in Shimmervale, though, he would have plenty of time to come to a decision.

"I... guess this means we might be staying a little longer than we thought." Roland knew that in itself brought more problems with it, however. "What if we stay here too long, though? What if Drevon gets to the next monolith before we get there? How would we find him?"

"If that becomes the case, then your journey will take you to the Mountain of Malefor."

"I-isn't that just a pile of ruined rock?" Ashlyn inquired, lowering her gaze. "It's not really a _mountain_ anymore. There's nothing there. Why would we go there?"

"That was originally the case, until the wyverns came forth. They were headed in that direction. I've also heard reports from the scouts back in Warfang that the mountain was... _rising_. I can't confirm if that's the case right now, but I should have more information soon, once Draya sends me that letter. I see why they're heading there, considering it's where one of the only conduits of dark aether in existence is left."

"Conduits of dark aether?" Tris frowned. The master of magic herself had no clue about this. "What are they?"

"It's a solid beam of dark magic. The wyverns will use that power to help them devour the magic in the world. Magic is generally self-replenishing, but dark aether will destroy it entirely. That magic is the bane of everything, even mana itself."

Roland took a moment to think, but he couldn't come up with another question regarding where Drevon would end up. Wren hadn't said anything back at his encampment about a fifth monolith, so there was no chance they were going to find Drevon there. He still had hope he would find the monolith in Dante's Freezer before Drevon, but if worst came to worst, he could get to Drevon at the Mountain of Malefor.

Ashlyn bent her head back in Wren's direction. "Do you know where Drevon might be at the moment?"

"After that green flash of light from Everlost Forest, we haven't seen any sign of him." Wren withdrew a bag from within his basket. It thumped and rattled against the stone after he threw it into the centre of the living room. "These are copies of reports on sightings of him, many I received after speaking with Amilia. I've been trying to figure out where the purple dragon is based on these, but hardly any of it makes sense. Once the news of Firemore's destruction came along, people panicked and have been blaming the purple dragon for shadows they've seen in forests, for destroying their crops, and all sorts of things. There's nothing in there that pinpoints a logical area he is, but if I had to take a guess, he's most likely recuperating somewhere along the path to Shimmervale. Exerting all of that energy to blow up a city and awaken the wyverns has probably taken an extreme toll on him, and he might not have had enough energy to make the flight to Dante's Freezer. No normal dragon could fly all the way there. Not even a wind dragon would do that. I'm sure you've noticed, but we aren't long-distance flyers..."

"So we might have some time after all..." Roland rested his paw beneath his chin. He lurched a little at the thought of his best friend, the _extreme toll_ taken by him after his actions. He was the last person who should've been cursed like this.

He remembered back to when Drevon told him how much pain the curse wrought. It made him feel sick.

"How does Drevon figure out where to go next?" Tris spoke. Her eyes were keen and she gripped the cushion beneath her with tight paws. Her interest was easily discernible, her desire to help immense. "Is he detecting magic from the monoliths somehow?"

"The monoliths and the purple dragon are linked by aether, so I assume that's the case, though it must be a very weak form of that considering his slow speed." Wren lifted a paw out of his basket and placed it on the floor.

"You're leaving?" Ashlyn asked. Wren's gaze didn't meet hers, instead Roland's.

"No. Preparing. Roland and I have much to attend to. I'm going to need everybody to leave except for him. We can't have any distractions."

"What are you doin'?" Myrtle interrogated, her mistrust lit ablaze once more.

"Teaching Roland how to get a feel for his magic," Wren answered. "We'll be a little while, so... run off and do something else in the city."

"B-but I still have questions." Ashlyn jumped up and tried to approach him. "I-I want to know why Shimmervale is like... _this,_ and about the Guardians, and–"

"They aren't necessary at this time. Roland's magic is the important thing here. It's what he'll need to get his friend back." Wren waved them off. "Ta-ta. May the Ancestors look after you."

"You can't just... _steal_ him from us," Myrtle said. Roland wasn't a fan of Wren's rudeness, definitely not towards his friends, and he wanted to retaliate. Getting Drevon back was the important thing right now, though.

"I can understand being alone," Tris said. "Practising magic is easier without anybody around. I think we can leave Roland here for a little while."

The red dragon got up and flicked his crimson scarf away from his front. "Sorry, Myrtle, but he's right. If I need to concentrate to learn this, then so be it. We need to get Drevon back. That's what we need to work on right now."

Myrtle's eyes were steely and mistrustful. She looked up at the ice Guardian, but he had his attention focused elsewhere. She eventually sighed, stepping down from her annoyance. "Yeah... But if he does anything stupid or so much as lays a claw on you, let me know and I'll kick his arse."

He was surprised yet grateful to hear that. It made him smile.

Tris giggled. "Okay, Myrtle, come on. Wren needs to teach him now."

"I'll tell you, don't worry." Roland patted her shoulder. He looked over at Ashlyn. "And I'll ask those questions for you. See you soon."

Ashlyn nodded and the three dragonesses walked back around the corner and vanished from the building, leaving only Wren and Roland. The ice Guardian turned around with an almost uncanny grin on his face. Irritation had instantly been replaced with joy.

"And now, Roland," Wren began, "I will teach you how to use your magic. Come along with me. I have some methods to assist you."

Roland glanced at him in perplexity, for he didn't understand what those entailed. "What are they?"

"You'll see." Wren paced forward, towards the door on the right. "Let's see if we can spark some magic from you..."

* * *

Roland set himself down atop a stringy mat in the centre of the room. He looked skyward, to the light of the sun slicing through the domed glass in keen rays. The floor around the mat was patterned with an incomplete circle and, where the circle stopped, lines moved forward, heading for the end of the room and a small figure atop a stone pillar. He recognised the shape of the statuette, a physical depiction of the Ancestors. Its mighty wingspan was spread, two immaculate limbs as large as the body itself.

He'd seen rooms similar to this in Firemore, in past heists. Some people placed wealth in these holy places; these rooms were one thing he downright refused to rob, though. He didn't have much of an attachment to religion – he didn't pray or get down on his chest and worship them, but there was something about robbing a holy place that was more immoral than almost any other target. He didn't like the thought of being cursed.

"Why are we training in here?" Roland asked, watching as Wren sat down in front of the statue.

"Before I train, I pray." Wren bent his head down, his back turned to from Roland. "Do you pray, Roland?"

"No, not usually," he said with a slight chuckle. "I... think the Ancestors exist, but I've never really prayed before..."

"Now's a good time begin." Wren looked back at him. "Close your eyes, clear your mind, and listen."

"Uh... why?" Roland shifted in his seat uncomfortably. He thought Wren would grow agitated after such a comment, but the ice Guardian was surprisingly patient with him.

"The Ancestors will lend us their strength and lend your heart the will to summon its first spark of mana. They will push us through these hard times."

"If you say so..." He shrugged and shut his eyes. He loosened his muscles and pledged his focus to the breaths he drew through his nostrils. Wren cleared his throat and, with a long sigh, he began.

"To the Ancestors that watch over us, we honour you with these words. We ask of you your boon, your pride and strength. We ask that you allow Roland's magic passage. Grant him your power – grant us your hope. Help us win this battle. Help us through these dark times."

Roland peered at Wren through slitted eyes. Wren set his leg in front of him and, with the other paw, lowered a claw upon it. He slipped his nail beneath a singular scale in a sudden motion and tore it away, then held it to his breast. Respects paid to the heavens, Wren went on, and Roland closed his eyes again.

"With this sacrifice, we ask for your assistance. Ancestors, help us. Look after us. Look after us all."

Roland opened his eyes after that, knowing he'd finished. It was briefer than he was expecting, but they were scarce of time.

"Let's hope they've listened." Wren placed the blue scale he'd plucked from his leg upon the pillar and bowed before it. He turned away from the figurine. "We'll train in here. This sacred place will help you with your magic."

Roland suppressed a frown – he disregarded that as balderdash, that some kind of holy power was going to help him channel magic, but he wasn't about to knock someone for having a vast belief in religion. "Okay. What do I need to do?"

"Let us start with a question first," Wren said, sitting down before his new student. "Have you tried to reach for your magic before? What methods have you taken?"

"Uh... I was never really sure what to do and I never had much of an education, so I never really knew any of the methods. I've tried to force it out, but it never came." He thought back to the past, then memories came surging forth of his visit to Tristana's house. "Oh, Tris tried to get magic out of me once. She got me to breathe and focus on my core. It didn't really work, though..."

"Shoddy teaching, I would imagine," Wren dismissed. Roland shook his head, annoyed by the constant disapproval and rudeness towards his friends.

"No, I don't think so. She's _really good_ with magic. She knew what she was doing. I just happened to experience a painful vision while it was happening..."

"A _painful_ vision, you say?" Wren leaned forward and put a claw to his chin. "Somebody was trying to send you a message?"

"A message?" Roland repeated, about as confused as he was. "Who would be trying to send me a message? And... how do you know it was a message?"

"Visions are _never_ painful, unless something is trying to force itself into your mind," Wren explained with a hint of intrigue. "Generally, visions are nonsense, like dreams you have when you're awake, but this sounds more like a message to me. That brings up the question of who might be sending it to you and why. What did you see, Roland?"

"I saw my city burning down," he said. "And then it all turned a deep violet. I saw a pair of white eyes which I'm sure were supposed to be Drevon's, but he was made of smoke. As weird as it was, the whole thing seemed to come true."

"Definitely a message then, but a poorly sent one. If the magic is weak or the distance is long, the meaning of the vision can occasionally be lost. Somebody was attempting to warn you, somebody with a connection to you. They either knew you were a time dragon or there's a different reason I'm not understanding. Did they reveal themselves in the vision or at least give hints to who they might've been?"

"No, nothing of the sort. The only thing that resembled anyone was the smoky Drevon..."

Wren let out an audible sigh. "If only it'd been more recent, I possibly could've tracked the elemental signature. Oh well. It doesn't matter much. We need to stop getting side-tracked and put our focus on your magic. The Ancestors are probably getting impatient with us."

Roland wished to know more, for he was far more intrigued by this _message_ than the magic he couldn't feel a speck of. Who in the Realms would warn him of the explosion? Who had knowledge of that? Why did they warn him and not everybody else in the city?

What was this connection Wren spoke of? A friend? He didn't have any friends other than the ones he travelled with.

Someone else would've done better with that information than him. Now, the grasping claws of guilt descended upon him, for he could've done something to warn everybody. He wasn't sure if people would've listened to one such as him, but it had fallen unto him to save everyone from their fates.

If only he'd been smarter and hadn't been caught up in the death of...

He needed to stop thinking about that.

"Roland?" Wren spoke and tapped him with a wing. "Were you paying attention?"

"S-sorry," he muttered, "I was daydreaming."

"You must understand how important this is," Wren lectured. Roland felt the guilt stab at him again. "The world's fate rests on your powers. Only you can–"

"Let's just get on with it." Roland stood up, flaring his wings in minor irritation. "What do I need to do?"

"We'll start with a thought exercise. Draconic magic comes from three places: the mouth, the body, and the mind. With complete meditative focus on one's core, we can lure the magic forward. You need to have trust and pride in yourself. You need to keep it from escaping your grasp, but you should never try to force it."

This sounded an awful lot like what Tris had attempted. This time, though, he hoped he wouldn't be interrupted by someone breaking into his skull to relay information. "Do I start by closing my eyes?"

"If that will help you focus, then yes," Wren said with a tiny glimmer of a smile. Was he impressed the red drake knew that much or something? Roland couldn't tell with this dragon.

He kneaded the soft surface of the mat, closed his eyes again, and sat with his tail curled around his flank. He let air through his nostrils in a shallow breath in preparation of the ice Guardian's orders.

"Now, look deep into your being, to the heart of your potenthalus. Visualise your magic. Show yourself what it looks like."

His imagination came to life. Orange swirled before him in a dark void, like a wavering flame. It glowed like fire, danced like a flame, but he knew it was not. With time, it solidified. It froze in the air, a bent string of crystal. On his silent command, it became vapour and moved again.

It grew restless; it hadn't been tamed. Roland reached for it in his mind, tried to grasp it and clutch it against his heart, but it squirmed away from outstretched paws. He tried again, to no use. Frustrated, he huffed.

"Breathe, Roland," Wren said. "Don't forget to breathe."

He inhaled, deep and relieving. He'd been forgetting to do just that, his focus having shifted away from himself. The light stopped its struggle. It didn't have eyes, but he could feel its stare. Raw power, a spark deep in his stomach, running the fuse to his chest.

And then, as he tried to force it further, up into his throat, it all fizzled away into nothingness.

He couldn't see the light anymore, no matter how much he tried. There was only void. The magic was done playing.

"What do you see?" Wren discerned the grimace on the young dragon's face. "What do you feel?"

"...Nothing now." He opened his eyes again, pushing the thought of the blackness away. "I... I saw it, though. And I felt something in my chest. I tried to push it further–"

"No, no, no," Wren said with a profuse shake of his head. "You should never try to _force_ magic. It comes naturally. It can be like its own being for some, like a beast that needs to be tamed. If you scare it off with force, it will hide from you."

"Oh..." Roland felt the disapproving look he received in his chest. "Let me try again..."

He did. But when he closed his eyes and tried to imagine the magic, it was different. It wasn't that same string of playful light, but a ball of petrified crystal. He wasn't sure how this worked. He hadn't even wanted it to look that way, but his mind had decided for him, as though his magic was a sentient thing.

Neither Myrtle, Ashlyn, or Tris had said a thing about this when discussing magic. He lifted his eyelids and looked into the mat with disappointment. "I... It's scared now. I can't change it. It doesn't want anything to do with me."

"Hmm. Your mana truly is different." Wren brushed a claw over his chin. "Usually we have control over it, but it seems you don't have yours, which would make sense if it's used itself before. I've never seen this happen... All magic feels mostly the same, but yours is so different. It was warm and now it's cold. Strange. What happened when your magic came out on its own?"

"Yeah. When I found the wyvern eggs and when Drevon destroyed Firemore, my magic activated itself and put me inside a crystal, only for it to shatter. I'm pretty sure it was saving my life."

"Your magic is more alive then I previously thought, then. Most peculiar..."

"Do you... want me to keep trying? I–"

"No, I need to give this thought," the Guardian interrupted. "I need to study my pool of visions. Your mana is unlike anything I've ever seen or felt. It's... _unnatural_."

The way he put it made it sound like an awful thing, as though he wasn't even supposed to exist. Roland wouldn't have been surprised if Wren did think that. Time dragons weren't a thing. Only the most legendary purple dragon could control the fabric of time, and that was Spyro. Roland wasn't... _that_. He wasn't like him in the slightest, or so he thought.

He didn't want to be like Spyro, either. He didn't want these powers.

The only reason he wanted them was so he could get his friend back. And after that, he would damn them to hell. He wanted to be normal again.

"I apologise for cutting this so short. I was excited myself to see what you could do, but it appears I do not know enough. I've failed." Wren turned away from the red dragon, head craned downwards. "You can leave. Run off to your friends. I'll see you tomorrow at this time, alright? I'll tell you what I see in the pool."

Roland's chest felt tight. Seeing this side of the old dragon almost hurt. Genuinely, he was apologetic for not being able to assist. That pride he'd shown in his abilities had worn away.

Roland wanted to be able to fully trust him. He really had this look about him, that his only desire was to help, but even then...

Roland sighed and looked away from the ice dragon.

"Yeah, okay." Roland took a step towards the doorway. "See you tomorrow, Wren."

The Guardian of ice didn't acknowledge him further. Roland silently jumped into the air and glided out Wren's half-open front door.

He guessed he would see where tomorrow brought him. He'd actually felt something inside him today, a slight spark of mana like a tiny burn in the pit of his stomach. It was a start. As he thought about it more, he started feeling a little more excited.

He'd be on his way to learning how to help Drevon soon. He'd soon get him back.

* * *

Roland pushed the back of his head deeper into Fluffy's pudgy stomach, the dreadwing's spine laying against a rock jutting out of the forest floor. The others were in the cave behind him; he could hear the voice of Tris, who'd gotten back half an hour ago from scavenging for food, speaking to Myrtle. They joked and poked fun at each other. The temptation to join them came forth, but for now, he was comfortable outside, where he could listen to the leaves caress each other, to the split harmony of birds. It wasn't so chilly tonight, and he had a coat of bushy dreadwing fur to keep him snug.

It was still unbelievable to be in this position now, a place where he could get his best friend back. The days had been so long. The darkness had been foreboding and soon had started to swallow him, but now the light was shining through the cracks, blotting out the despair.

Even in spite of that, he felt one part at peace but two parts at war with himself.

Wren had been so genuine about helping him, yet his newfound scepticism was getting the better of him. He'd been swift to trust in the past. That had gotten him nowhere. Harper had turned out a monster and Carolin had died because of Ashlyn...

No, Aurus. Ashlyn had been okay in the end. He knew he could trust her. She'd saved his life so many times already. If that wasn't a sure sign of her will to be better, then he wasn't certain what was. Aurus had been the demon behind the murder.

Something told him Wren was a bit different to them. He didn't want anybody to die. All the signs the red dragon had noticed pointed towards Wren wishing to help, but Roland didn't feel like he could invest himself in that relationship until he was totally sure. The Guardians were his _enemies_. He had no idea how long it would take to step forth and give him his faith.

It bummed him out. He felt bad over not being able to place his trust in him so easily, all because of that misery he'd seen earlier. Roland didn't want to put his feelings over the ice Guardian's. No amount of trying to convince himself that it was right to hold himself back made him feel any better.

He _knew_ this was stupid, how dumb his feelings were. He shouldn't have felt _bad_ at all. Mistrust was a natural thing. Myrtle had done it okay, so why hadn't he? This Guardian was one he'd previously thought of as an enemy and, for all he knew, still could be. But it didn't make him feel any better about it.

Roland didn't have to listen to Wren. He could head for Dante's Freezer _right now_ if he desired it. He wouldn't have to worry over this. It was his concerns and want for a realistic approach that held him back, though. He required a solid plan, one better than the increasingly pointless endeavour to convince Drevon to back down he'd previously thought up. He'd once thought that if he could bring Drevon down once, he could do it again, but his mindset had started to shift when Darryl had told him how the dark aether would continuously grow worse. He knew he could believe in the deer's claims, considering all the information had come from an ancient race of earth noodles that had been there with the wyverns themselves.

All this thinking was tiring him out. He'd been doing so much of it, after Firemore, after everything between then and now. Now his problems lay on trusting the Guardian of ice.

"This is all so stupid..." He clutched his forehead. "I wish things were simpler."

Fluffy seemed to understand. He pushed his winged limbs in front of Roland and pulled him closer. He was so affectionate and Roland couldn't begin to understand why. Were all dreadwings this loving with their masters?

Well, he guessed not. He hadn't seen another dreadwing in ages. After those few he'd seen in Firemore and, of course, Fluffy, no more had shown up. He'd once thought the dreadwings were returning, but apparently that hadn't really been the case.

According to Harper, all of the beasts had been wearing a necklace, similar to Fluffy's. Someone must've owned them. Someone had sent a squad of dreadwings after him.

Maybe it'd been the same person who'd sent him the vision-message-thingy.

"Ugh. I hate this so much..."

"Uh... I-I'm not disrupting anything, am I?" Ashlyn's small and confused voice came after his quiet one.

He looked around the dreadwing and grinned at her. "Nah. I'm just listening to the birds, looking at the stars through the trees. It's peaceful out here."

"O-okay, good..." She pushed her paws together and glanced back at the mouth of the cave. Myrtle and Tris were still chatting. Roland couldn't hear what it was about, but it must've been funny by the way they were laughing. He glanced back at Ashlyn, saw the way she studied the grass, and was immediately concerned.

"Is everything alright, Ash?" He pushed Fluffy's wings off his chest and jumped up. Fluffy wasn't in complaint, probably because he'd noticed the look on Ashlyn's face as well.

"Not really... I was going to ask if you wanted to take a walk with me, though."

He could use that. Speaking to Ashlyn about the things she was dealing with might get his mind off of the vexing thoughts purging his mind of joy. "Yeah, I'll go. Stay here, Fluffy. I'll be back soon."

The dreadwing looked to be getting sick of staying in the same spot. Roland pouted at the dreadwing's disapproving glare.

"I'll fly you later. We can go on a trip together. That sounds fun, right? And then you can snuggle me all you like."

That was all it took to change his moody monster's feelings, thankfully. Fluffy was particularly content with the word 'snuggle.'

"Good boy." He gave the dreadwing's side a couple solid pats. "The others know we're leaving, right, Ash? They won't worry about where we are?"

"Yeah, I told them... I think they listened." Ashlyn shrugged. Roland gave her a quizzical look. "W-we won't be gone for that long anyway. They might not even notice we've left..."

"...Meh." He started pacing in the direction of the woods. Ashlyn fumbled around for a second before running to catch up. "Fluffy can tell them where we went."

"I-I don't think..." Ashlyn caught herself before the joke flew over her head. "Oh, yeah. That's a joke."

He couldn't help but snort in laughter at her reaction. She was distracted tonight, more absent-minded than usual.

"S-sorry, I just... Ugh."

"What's up?" he asked, leaving the smirk behind. He felt bad for having it. "Were they getting you down? Did they say something?"

"N-no, they weren't trying to hurt me or anything. They're not awful people." She looked towards the darkness beneath the trees and veered slightly to the left. "Let's... get to a better spot first. I remember a place around here that looked nice."

"You've been here?" he said as he stepped beneath a tangle of vines. The branches were low and sturdy, difficult to dodge without shoving them out of the way. He rubbed the damp, snow-dotted moss on the pads of his paws off on his side.

"No, but I've sailed past here. The place is near the coast. There's a cliff at the edge of the woods that looked nice."

"How far away?" Roland inquired with a frown. He didn't want to go on for too long. The only reason he'd been up for a walk was so he could speak with Ashlyn. He already wished to sit down again, his legs tired after running all the way to Alevor's to find his friends after the lesson was cut short. Fortunately they'd been there, but the llama blacksmith had gone out for the day. He'd caught them at just the right moment, as they were about to leave. "If it's any longer than ten minutes–"

"It's about five, give or take," she answered with a small smile. "I think you'll like it. I know how much you enjoy watching the stars."

A good view of the starlit skies and the celestial moons was more than enough to persuade him. He walked a little faster than the idle pace he'd been at, hoping it was as decent as the ice dragoness suggested.

The more they travelled, the more the trees seem to split apart, until he noticed they'd walked onto a path in the woods. He hadn't seen this when they'd been walking past the forest on their way to Shimmervale. He could see the icy plains, like moonlit spears of white between the slits in the shallow foliage.

Ashlyn cleared her throat with an awkward cough. "S-so, um... H-how's... How's life treating you, Roland?"

The times when she'd stuttered like this were long past her, but now they were coming back in full force. He was eager to get to this place she spoke of, so he could help her with her dilemma. He had an idea of what it was about, but he didn't want to automatically assume. He respected her privacy enough for her to tell him herself. "About the same as you, I'd imagine. Pretty, uh... _abnormal_. Different to Firemore, that's for sure."

"I-I mean, I'm aware of _that_ much." She barely stifled a giggle. "Right now, though? You've had your head in the clouds a lot lately, and I'm pretty sure I just interrupted another session of that. S-sorry about that, by the way..."

"Yeah. I'm just not sure about any of _this_ , really. I dunno if I can trust Wren, and I've been wondering about my time powers, like I've already told you tonight..." When they'd gotten back, Roland had explained to his friends that he'd felt something inside himself and what he'd seen inside his head. Tris was most obviously the excited one and Myrtle had expressed her intrigue. Ashlyn had given him a hopeful, happy smile. She'd been a little disappointed when she'd asked about answers to her questions and had gotten none, but they could ask next time they were there. "Everything, really. There's so much going on at the moment. I'm losing track of everything. Thinking's helping me keep up to date."

"I hope you don't mind me saying so, but Wren's... I don't like him. He's a jerk." Ashlyn sighed, as if she felt she was supposed to be apologetic for her comment. "He seemed okay when we first met him. Now he's brushing everyone else off and giving you all of his attention. I mean, I can understand. You _are_ the time dragon, after all. But he could be a little... nicer? He shooed us out of the building earlier, and to be frank, I was a little worried about you..."

"That annoyed me, too," he answered. "He's so focused on me that he didn't want to give any of you any attention. He only cares about what happens to me and the questions that relate to me because I have the powers, when all of you guys are just as useful... He really seems like he wanted to help, though. When I couldn't get my magic any further, he looked kind of miserable."

"Speaking of that," she said, "I wonder if what he really wants _is_ to help. He just strikes me as the... untrustworthy kind of person. He wouldn't answer my questions because they were too _unimportant_. He was obsessed over you. It's like he wished he had your powers. Like he wants to use you..."

"I have no clue what he would do with them other than stopping Drevon. It's not like I can actually control time or anything. I can make crystals, but that's about it. I dunno how that would be useful to him in any way.." Roland put a claw to his chin. "Maybe I can control time but I just don't have the ability to. Perhaps he thinks I could do that."

Ashlyn didn't join in his pondering, and instead the nervous appearance of her expression had intensified.

"I-I'm scared for you, Roland. W-what if he makes you do something that you don't want to? What if he starts using you and then we can't get Drevon back and then–"

" _Slow_ _down._ " He chuckled. "I have no clue how he'd use me. I don't think you can force magic out of people. If he was going to force me to do something really bad, I wouldn't do it, simple as that."

Ashlyn nodded slightly, but that look of fear didn't vanish in the slightest.

"I don't really think he wants that anyway. I'm still sceptical, but he just didn't seem like it..."

The blue dragoness' narrow face straightened and the uneasy glint in her azure eyes went serious. "If anything remotely bad happens, please tell me you'll back out and we'll head to Dante's Freezer. I don't want to see you get hurt again because we trusted someone blindly."

Her words made him feel funny in the chest, warmer and happier. That feeling of being cared about was unlike any other. "I'm better than I was before. If I catch something that makes me uncomfortable or nervous, I'm out of there. We'll go to Dante's Freezer straight away if his intentions really are bad. It's adorable, Ashlyn, but you don't need to worry about me."

"A-adorable?" she muttered with her eyes wide. "U-um, I... J-just promise me you will."

"I promise." He smirked. It was easy flustering her and it was funny to him every time he found the opportunity to do so, even now in her stress over him.

"Uh... Oh, w-we're here!" Ashlyn padded past him, around the trees and pointed stones, up the snow-peppered path. From where he stood, the stars became obvious, bright points like needles pricking through the sky, immersed in a wash of purple and blue. Roland stepped out from behind the cover of timber and paced forward in eager anticipation.

Ashlyn stopped at the edge of the cliff, her toes folded around tight bundles of grass poking off the top of its face. Roland glanced downwards as he reached her, first into the sea lying far below them, pounding against the rocks as though nature was at war with itself, then up, where the stars observed the world like glimmering knights in the watchtowers of Shimmervale. Roland parted his maw, tracing the constellations with his eyes. He could never get sick of views like this.

As they stared, the snow began to fall again, a sprinkle of shimmering white in the black that messed with Roland's perception of depth. It was like a meteor shower up there when his vision blurred over from goggling too long.

"You were right, Ash," he said. "This really is beautiful. If only I had ink, I could write about it..."

"And I could draw it," she replied with that tiny signature smile of hers. "I'm glad I remembered this."

Stargazing wasn't the reason they were here, though. Roland hadn't forgotten why Ashlyn had desired a walk in the first place.

"So... What's up?" He shuffled a little closer to her. "What happened back there?"

"Yeah. Right..." She'd forgotten, clearly, mesmerised by the depths of the sky, the canvas of the Ancestors. She stepped back from the edge of the cliff. "I... wanted to go on a walk with you because I felt alone. I-I know it's stupid. We have the others..."

"No, it's not _stupid_ ," he told her with a hint of annoyance. No problem of hers to him was _stupid_. He could take a guess at why she felt alone and probably be right as well, but he would leave it up to her to explain. "Why did you feel lonely?"

Ashlyn sighed and turned towards him. "It's... Myrtle. I know I said I was okay before, but I've had a hard time thinking positively tonight. I see them there, talking and laughing and just... having _fun_. I want to join in. But I can't. It hurts. I feel like you're the only one I can talk to as a friend..."

Roland hated this problem, because it was the one he knew didn't have a solution. That was worse than not knowing about one. "I'm afraid there isn't much we can do about that. Tris is fine with you being around and she likes talking to you, but she's... clearly more focused on Myrtle. And I mean, let's be honest, they're both interested in each other, so it's understandable why they're always talking to each other."

He grinned, hoping he would get a laugh out of her, and he did. Ashlyn managed a smile despite herself.

"But yeah," he continued. "It's an annoying problem and I know how you feel. It's... very complicated. I wish it were easy to fix. I wish it _could_ be fixed..."

"Yep..." Ashlyn gave a nod.

Roland nudged her with his knee. "Those time powers would really come in handy, huh? If I could just reset all of this, reset the universe and make it so this never happened..."

"I don't know if your powers can go that far." Ashlyn giggled. "I feel like that would take a god."

"But I'm a god in your eyes, aren't I?"

Ashlyn's eyes widened as her body tensed. "W-what's that supposed to–"

"I'm only joking." He chuckled. He lowered his voice. "Nah, that's silly..."

Roland lowered himself to the ground and put a paw to his cheek. He was content laying there, beneath the stars and the solemn gaze of the ever-watchful Ancestors, where the breeze wrapped nipping but gentle claws around his scales, where he could inhale and breathe the scent of the ocean.

So many things were reminding him of Firemore, but this was the one that stood out the most. He remembered those days he'd spent laying in the huge pipe, looking out to the sea and the stars in awe. He remembered sitting there with his page and his vial of ink, his claw black, gliding along paper.

He missed it.

"Are you going to head back?" Ashlyn asked. "It's pretty late."

"I... think I'm gonna stay here a while longer. I like this view."

Ashlyn lay down beside him. "Then... if you don't mind, I'll stay with you. Being with you makes me feel better."

He didn't answer, which she took as him not minding. He liked her presence there beside him. Her element was cold, but she radiated warmth. He enjoyed not being lonely and she probably did, too.

He sat there for a while. He had some time to spare.

It was nice.


	31. Waiting Within

Waiting Within

"Look at the position he's in," one voice said with a laugh.

"I-is... Is that actually comfortable?" another asked, confounded.

Roland snorted, eyes opening. They quivered as bright light pressed against them, narrowed until the glowing sun prodding through the trees was but a thin slit of light. Ashlyn and Tris stood over him, both a blur of colour, the latter with something like an amused grin on her face.

As his eyes made sense of his surroundings, he looked down at himself to check what they were talking about and found his legs and stomach pointed towards the roof. He reached for the back of his neck, thumping with a dull agony because of his abnormal position, but in spite of that, he smiled at the mirthful position he'd fallen asleep in.

"Hey, girls." Roland rolled onto his front and groaned as he bent down, stretching his limbs like an old, sore feline. "How did you sleep?"

"Fine," Tris said first. Ashlyn followed with a low but warm 'good.' She seemed to be in a particularly good mood this morning. It seemed as though she'd gotten to spend some time with Tris. "The rock floor isn't very comfortable... We'll have to get some bedrolls if we're going to stay here longer."

"I've got mine." He grinned as he gave the dreadwing a pat and a hello. Fluffy relished in the touch of his master like he always had, purring and rubbing his neck on the red dragon's paw as though to make him pet faster. "But yeah, I agree. With the extra space on Fluffy, I'm sure we could take them with us to Dante's Freezer, too. How much do you think they'd cost?"

"I was scanning the market stalls as we walked by them yesterday," the blue dragoness answered. "Shimmervale's... a little expensive. We only have fifty copper each and a bedroll was thirty coins..."

"I would employ some of my skills..." Roland felt his legs crack pleasurably as he bent further. "Thing is, I dunno if I could easily get away with it. I only could comfortably steal in Firemore because I knew I could get off pretty much scot-free if I was caught. I don't know the laws of Shimmervale well and, considering this place is probably mostly outside of the whole union with the rest of the Dragon Realms, their laws on kids could be harsh."

"People used to cut off paws for pickpocketing back in Lingrad if my memory serves correctly," Tris said with mild disgust. Roland winced at the thought of that. That'd easily dissuade him from ever committing a crime. But no, the life of a kid in the Dragon Realms was easy. Or so he'd previously thought. "It was really harsh. It was still a nice place despite that, though."

"You said you were only two when you came here, right?" Roland walked past the dulling flame on the floor and took a seat near the entrance of the cave. He wanted to feel the light on his scales, the cold breeze airing through the hollow like a bad odour. Tris nodded at the question and took a seat next to him, and then Ashlyn on his other side. "How do you remember it being a nice place if you were that young? I barely remember anything from my childhood, especially not from when I was still a whelp."

"I remember a few things, actually. Just not my parents. I don't remember them. Their names, their looks, their personalities... I can remember the day they went out for ice cream and took me with them, but I can't remember anything about them at all."

"Yeah... That must suck." Especially when she would probably never figure out who they were, either, Roland thought. He wasn't going to say anything about it, but chances were they hadn't escaped the country with her and they'd been swept into the war, now a part of the thousands of civilian casualties the ice dragons in Lingrad had been the cause of. Tris was lucky to be with them today. Looking at her now, he knew she understood that.

"It's okay. That was more than a decade ago. I don't think about it much." Tris shrugged. Roland prodded his brain for a different topic. With a glance around the cave, he noticed somebody wasn't there. No green dragoness making quips and jokes and punching him in the leg.

"What's Myrtle up to?"

"She went to get us breakfast. She was up pretty early." Tris peered into the woods in search of the earth dragoness. "It's been thirty minutes since then, though. She told me she wouldn't be far away. I think I might go and look for her. She might need some help."

"Don't die," he said with a slight chuckle. She returned it, then jumped from the cave. Spreading her creamy wingspan, she soared through the woods and disappeared into the tangle of branches.

Ashlyn let out a sigh, one of contentment. Roland briefly peered along her graceful figure. She was more relaxed than she'd been earlier. All that tension from last night had given way to new peace.

"You look like you're pretty damn happy with yourself," Roland spoke with a dash of fascination.

Ashlyn poked him in the side. "Mostly because of you. I also just got to speak with Tris a little bit. It's plain to me why Myrtle likes her so much. Sh-she's a lot of fun. They both mesh together really well."

"That's good to hear, but c'mon, I only _sat_ with you last night." He hadn't done much at all. He couldn't really say he helped when he barely did a thing.

She wasn't going to take that for an answer, though. "D-don't sell yourself short! You didn't need to do more than that. I liked watching the stars with you. It was... It was nice, Roland."

Something about that sent blood through his cheeks. She'd made it sound more _romantic_ than it was, which he was only just able to suppress a laugh at. "Eh, maybe that's all you needed. Maybe I didn't need to be there."

"Sh-shut up and accept the praise." She narrowed her eyes in a playful yet annoyed kind of way. It was scary seeing her only a little irritated, he wasn't going to lie. "You're good. That's all you need to know."

"...Fine. I'm decent." He really only said it to stop her from bursting into an rage-induced rant about how he was amazing. He'd seen her get mad over a similar thing. Of course, this time it was more lighthearted bickering than that time in the Everlost Forest when she'd gotten annoyed over him not wanting to talk to her about his thoughts...

She still didn't really need to worry about his feelings, too. They weren't that important. They were his to deal with.

"I'll accept that. For now." She looked away for a moment, but then turned around and pointed a claw at him. "But d-don't you dare argue with me about how you _aren't_ good!"

"Got it, boss."

"Seriously – oh, they're coming back." She gestured towards the two dragonesses, one green and one yellow, dragging a beast across the forest floor with their mouths. Seemed Myrtle had found another skurvywing by the looks of things. Disgustingly, its hooked beak had been smashed right into its skull, as though it'd been weaponised against itself. Myrtle's tail club was bloody and her tail itself was lined with a few smaller slashes, but it was clear she'd fared better than he had against the oversized bird, with a far more successful sneak assault.

They dragged it up the hill and set it down against the cave floor. Fluffy's eyes shot wide open in the presence of such a massive meal. He wandered over, flat snout quivering as he sniffed at the bird. Roland stuck a claw in front of his face and shook his head. Fluffy recoiled, surprised by the sudden motion.

"No, it's not all yours, bud." He turned to meet Myrtle and Tris. "Good catch, you two. Skurvywing's really nice."

"It was mostly Myrtle," Tris said with a grin as she walked past them, grabbing loose twigs from their pile to fuel the dimming fire in the hollow.

Myrtle looked past Roland and Ashlyn. Roland's smile fell, concern brought forth when he searched Myrtle's baggy, bloodshot eyes and analysed the slouch in her step. She looked like she was about to die of exhaustion. "Yeah, I know. I'm great."

"Are you alright, Myrtle?" Roland asked, stepping in front of her.

"I know, I look like _death_ ," she told him. "Just tired, though, Roly. Nothin' to worry about. Didn't get a very good sleep last night. Rock floor's fuckin' horrible."

"Do you wanna sleep in tomorrow?" He followed her as she stepped past him. Ashlyn walked behind them, a few paces back, keeping her voice to herself. "You look like shit..."

"That's not very nice." She smirked, but didn't answer the previous question. Roland took that as a no, but in that case he was tempted to let her sleep instead of doing the watch tonight. She looked _sickly_.

He took it as just exhaustion for now. It was probably difficult for her and the others to doze off on this hard surface. But if she couldn't fall asleep with how exhausted she was, then he was definitely going to ask if something was wrong.

Either it was just the rough floor, or something bigger was going on here. It could have to do with her lack of spirit gems...

He seized up at the thought. Was she suffering from withdrawal? What if...

He'd worry about it later. If it got worse, he was going to do something about it.

After checking his pocket watch and cramming a large, scrumptious helping of stringy white flesh down his throat, Roland and the others tied Fluffy to the cave again and headed for Shimmervale. The time had come for more training with the Guardian of ice, for more attempts to figure out how to save Drevon from the curse.

* * *

"Come in! The door's unlocked!" Wren's voice from inside called as Roland raised his paw to the knocker. He peered through the circular window on the left to see if that was how he and his companions had been spotted, into a plain room with a bowl-like structure in the centre, some kind of tub, and a fountain of drinking water in the corner, but he wasn't there. Must've heard them walking up the steps then.

That was an awful spot for a window to the bathroom, he realised.

Roland grabbed the door knob and was about to push it open, but Tris tapped him on the shoulder before he could. He looked behind him, paw still attached to the knob.

"Myrtle and I are going to head off... somewhere," she said, an almost devious little smirk on her features. "You'll be fine without us, right?"

"Where are you going?" He frowned at her peculiar statement. What wasn't she telling him, and why?

" _Somewhere_ , Roly," Myrtle replied with that same kind of grin. "You can't know. Secret."

"Uh..." Roland shrugged. Wren probably wouldn't desire their presence inside anyway. He was better off going at it alone and not wasting his time. "Sure? Go ahead. I'll... meet you back here?"

"Alright. See ya!" Myrtle and Tris padded off together. They exchanged looks, both seemingly pleased with each other. Roland spun around to Ashlyn to see what she was doing.

"I-if you don't mind," she started, her front paws atop each other, her gaze planted to the ground, "I might go, too. I... don't like the guy and I _would_ like to be with you just in case, but I had a thought on the way here about trying to find a place of temporary work. So, you know, we can... make some money while we're here?"

They'd want cash if they were going to be here for longer than they'd once intended. The thought of slumbering, cosy in a bedroll was popular with his friends right now. "Yeah, that sounds good to me. You'd really help us out."

"Y-you'll be okay, right? Alone?" she asked. There was so much worry in her voice, even when he felt he was hardly in any danger.

"Of course I'll be fine, Ash. I was fine last time."

"Are you coming or not?!" the ice Guardian shouted from within once more, his impatience growing like a pimple under Roland's scales. Roland chuckled slightly, but he felt annoyed anyway.

"Better get going. I'll see you later, Ash." He gave her a soft pat on the shoulder and turned towards the door once again. "Better not keep the big guy waiting..."

She didn't hear the last part, because she'd already trod off. Roland watched her go, a cheerful skip in her step, and smiled as the blue dragoness faded into the snowfall. He twisted the knob and pushed the door open, still watching her, and bumped the side of his head on the breast of a grown dragon.

Wren scowled. "I thought you'd run off on me."

"Sorry. I was just saying bye to my friends," Roland said. He lowered his tone. "I figured you wouldn't want them here..."

"Speak up," the Guardian responded with a frown. Roland shook his head and stepped around the larger dragon.

"It's nothing." He paced through the doorway, into the entry hall, as bare as winter trees. The floors still weren't nice to walk on – his claws kept getting caught in the uneven grooves of the stone. What kind of person would want a house like this if they weren't short on money?

Well, what kind of _dragon_ anyway? They were the only kind of person here...

The thought sent his mind spiralling back to the questions Ashlyn had wanted to ask, about Shimmervale and what had happened here.

"What made Shimmervale like this, Wren?" he asked. The question caught the ice dragon off-guard. He hadn't been expecting to speak yet. "I mean, like... What happened here? Why are there only dragons? And why isn't it so militaristic?"

"Is that important at this time?" Wren shot back, his brow continuing to crease.

"No, but I'd like to know anyway."

"I suppose I can give you a quick summary." Wren moved in front of him, swerving around the T into the living room. The baskets were still there and the cushions Myrtle and the others had left laying around had been neatly tucked back into Roland's basket. "Dragons here weren't treated fairly. The lord of the keep, a cheetah by the name of Tundra, at the top of the city was cruel and disregarded them as nothing but filth. Years and years of rights being taken away from dragons made them angrier and angrier, until one dragon finally snapped and brought together a rebellion to overthrow Tundra. As you can tell, they succeeded, but they went very far with the changes they wanted. Not only did they execute Tundra, they killed others, thousands of moles and cheetahs and what have you, and those that weren't killed were banished from the city. It was a bloodbath. That was only twenty years ago..."

"So... why doesn't it seem better protected?" Roland climbed into the pile of cushions and made himself comfortable.

"You'd be surprised, Roland. This city is very well-guarded. You might not notice, but there's almost always an eye on you. The guard is comprised of more than leather-bound soldiers."

That made him squirm. One of the worst feelings, of being stalked but having no idea by who or what. He hated that. Usually _he_ was the one watching, searching for the opportune moment to leap upon his prey and make off with their money.

"Yes, it makes me uncomfortable as well. But if you don't do anything wrong, Roland, nothing bad will happen to you. They will treat you with respect if you treat them with respect."

"What about the people here, though?" Roland asked. "Do they know they're being watched, too? How do they accept that?"

"Most do not know, and those that do and say anything are regarded as paranoid. It's a popular topic at the moment and people have reassured time and time again that they aren't being spied on... This isn't important, though. We are here to talk about your time magic. I have an experiment to carry out."

"What kind of experiment?" That was the thing that gripped his attention. The word 'experiment' had an unhappy connotation to him.

"Nothing too dangerous, I can tell you that much." Wren pulled a satchel off his hip and dug around inside. From within the leather bag came a green spirit gem, cut and polished to perfection, a vessel loaded with mana.

Roland remembered his gems had been taken away from him and his eyes widened. "A spirit gem? How'd you get _that_ in here?"

"Nobody's going to walk towards and arrest a Guardian, Roland. It wasn't difficult sneaking these in."

That made sense. Maybe if Roland hadn't been a child, he would've been able to smuggle his inside as well. "Well, what are you gonna do with it, then?"

Wren, clambering out of his reed-woven basket, set the green spirit gem down near the red dragon. "I would like you to consume it."

"You... want me to get _high_?" Roland cocked his head, picking the spirit gem off the floor. Its warmth radiated around his paws. Just holding it filled his body with vigour. "This is a really powerful gem. I've never held one like this before. This would get even me high, but not for long..."

"If you're saying that the gem sickness doesn't last long for you, then my theory should prove correct. I would just like to make sure, Roland." The ice dragon sat a few metres from him. "Crush it, please. I'm curious to see the results."

Roland looked up at the Guardian with unnerved eyes. Asking him to overpower his senses with mana was an odd, suspicious request. But if this was for Drevon...

At least he knew he wouldn't explode in a magical burst. He hadn't consumed enough for that. This wasn't a dangerous thing and not something he needed to worry too much over.

He gripped the gem between two paws, forcing them together. It burst at the seams, chunks gliding around only to rush towards him in a web of green light. Magic fueled him – such power burned at the deepest recesses of his body, the potenthalus far below, but the pain disappeared in an instant. His vision was washed in nauseating colour. Everything swirled and bent into shapes he couldn't comprehend. He felt weightless, rising to the heavens.

Then, a few moments later, just as expected, it suddenly stopped. That spike of raw power faded, the world returned to what it was, and Roland lost his balance and collapsed in the cushions.

"And so I am correct. Fancy that."

Roland looked up at Wren, his head aching. "Ugh... What were you trying to prove?"

"That the mana is being converted," Wren explained. "I could feel the magic inside you for a moment. It was just like normal and then it turned into something else entirely. Something that I'm going to call _time_ mana."

"What makes it... ugh..." Roland clutched his head. He felt his stomach knot. He hated those colours, loathed the feeling of that fizzling magic. Fluid rose in his throat, but he managed to force it back down again.

Anything for Drevon...

"What makes it different?" Wren asked the red dragon's question for him. Roland nodded, not entirely focused, but able to hear nonetheless. "All I know at the moment is that it has a different feeling entirely. Mana is familiar, but this is abnormal. I can't begin to describe it. The main point is that I now know that your mana is converted inside of you and that I can't treat it like normal magic. It's a different resource entirely."

Roland didn't nod, busied by the feeling in his throat and stomach. Wren walked over and placed a paw on the red dragon's shoulder, his face one of concern.

"Are you alright, young dragon? That wasn't too much for you, was it? Do you need a drink?"

"Y-yeah." Roland only had the mind to answer the last question. Water sounded _heavenly_. Wren pulled him and his attention towards one of the doors.

"This way, Roland. Sorry about the... harsh experiment."

Roland let the Guardian drag him along, his eyes closed and tight, head throbbing with pain. His stomach pulsed and ached. This had happened before, when he'd consumed too many spirit gems once, and he had a feeling he knew what was about to come next.

"Here," Wren said as they entered the bathroom. Roland lifted his head, eyes to the water fountain he'd seen from outside. It was a small sink attached to a pipe jutting into the floor. A thin stream of water spilled from a puncture in the wall into the stone sink, and then coursed back into the pipework only to flow through the hole again. It was pretty standard for a draconic water fountain, but they were usually more common outside than in.

Roland bent his head and let the fluid trickle into his parted mouth, onto his dry tongue. It cleared his hazy mind, softened that funny feeling in his stomach for but a moment. And then, in a sudden motion, Roland twisted his neck, retched, and threw up in painful spasms down the sink. Wren watched in shock as chunder filtered into the pipework and replaced the water dribbling through the hole.

As Roland finished spluttering, he rubbed the tears from his eyes, still clutching the fountain, chest heaving. He stared at his handiwork, but simply couldn't stomach looking at how he'd ruined the water fountain for more than two seconds, couldn't bear the smell of it from inches away. He turned away, gagging, throat threatening to betray him again.

He felt better now, though. That awful feeling inside of him was gone. He rolled his tongue over his fangs, disgusted by the strange roughness the fluid had brought with it.

"Are you alright now?" Wren asked, still looking at the water fountain. "Don't... vomit on the floor, please."

"I-I'm sorry," he said, grabbing at his belly. "I..."

"No, I'm at fault." Wren sighed. That same misery Roland had seen before contorted his prideful expression. "I should've foreseen this happening. I shouldn't have used a gem so powerful. I wanted to experience your magic in its full force, but I didn't think about you beforehand..."

"It's... alright." Roland managed to laugh at himself. He found the destruction of the water fountain kind of humorous. "I don't think anyone should drink from that now, though..."

Wren was able to put on a smile. "Well... I'm glad you find this funny. I'll have somebody come around to fix it later today. It's not a big deal. _But_ we have more pressing matters to attend to. If you're... up to it now, of course."

"Yeah, sure. My friends won't be back for a while, I think."

"Then off we go to the prayer room. Let us begin."

* * *

"What do you feel, Roland?"

After a prayer to the Ancestors, a request for their blessing once again, they'd started immediately. The magic was back, the swirling orange glow, twirling through the void like a ribbon in a breeze. The feeling in his gut, the prick of mana deep below, was back, now stronger than it'd been before. He reached for it, wanted to feel it heat his paws, but it escaped him every time, squeezing from the grip of his mind.

"It's there again. I can see it. I can feel it. It's warm."

Every part of him desired to force that magic out and make it his own, but he restrained himself. There was no point. It would cower away from him and refuse to cooperate again.

"Breathe deeply, Roland. No shallow breaths."

He relaxed his body and inhaled. The furious dance of the glow began to slow until it was but a line of solid colour. He brought forth the image of a crystal again and watched as it solidified like it had before. As he breathed out, it reverted to its original form and shook like a flickering flame on a candle's wick.

Magic bounced inside him, the sparks of time mana. They wanted out, desperately so, but he kept his mind set on focusing.

"What now?" he asked, so quietly he wasn't sure if Wren could hear him. He didn't want to disturb the magic with his voice.

"I'm going to take back what I said before. Force it out, Roland. Take hold of it and bring it forth."

What? But that would just...

"Trust me," Wren said. "I think I know what you need to do."

Roland hesitated a moment before he clenched his eyes shut, spread his paws along the rug under his feet, and grasped the strings as tightly as he could. He imagined it bubbling down below, rising as if it were a geyser of magma. The orange twirled violently.

And, just like before, the mana fizzled away, leaving his potenthalus feeling empty. The orange light petrified of its own accord and moved away from him, whimpering and shaking.

"It's... the same. I–"

"Keep going," was all the blue dragon said. Roland wasn't sure how. He couldn't even feel it anymore.

He pressed on, trying to get something to flow from within his core. He tensed his body, let his neck tighten. He tried to wrench out whatever he could.

Then, the orange crystal started to get closer. It shivered harder and faster, vibrating with energy. He could feel it again, a different thing entirely. It hadn't been unlike fire before, but now that the flow of orange had frozen over, it was cold and still.

Closer, closer still. It didn't run from him anymore. It stopped moving entirely. He reached for it, could almost feel its chilly embrace wrapping around his body.

He felt himself getting weaker and weaker. It was like the mana was disappearing, but...

Then, he felt something coming up through his throat. It felt like vomit again. He wanted to stop, keep it from coming out, but he couldn't. His mouth opened without him wanting to. His eyes pulled themselves ajar, into a hazy squint.

On instinct alone, he swallowed and it was gone. He felt his whole body writhing with disagreement, as though he was supposed to do something different.

That... hadn't been the magic, had it?

Roland shook his head in total vexation. He was a buffoon. He'd wasted his chance to use magic. Would it ever want to come out again?

"Well?" Wren voiced, confused by what he'd witnessed. "Anything at all?"

"I... had it for a second," Roland replied. He felt inclined to lie about suppressing his own magic. He felt _shame_. "But then it was gone."

"Hmm... I would ask you to try again, but I can't feel your mana anymore. It seems you've wasted all of it somehow."

He was right. Roland felt more empty than he had while trying to summon the magic, like a bucket with a gaping hole in it.

"Most dragons use a lot of mana on their first cast of any technique," Wren said. "It takes mana just to bring the image forth. But I've never seen somebody use almost all of their power in one instance without doing _anything_ at all. Very strange. Can you summon the magic with your mind again?"

Roland decided to try once more to bring the magic back, but he couldn't even see the orange anymore. All of his mana gone, like _that_ , in less than a snap. He'd wasted every single bit of it.

"I'd give you more gems," the blue dragon continued, "but I don't want to bring you harm. For now, you can leave if you wish. Get a good night's sleep and come back with a fresh mana pool tomorrow, Roland. I need to study this..."

"I'm waiting for my friends, so..." Roland shrugged. "Guess I'll just wait here for them to get back."

"Alright." Wren stood up and paced over to the door. "I shall be in the bedroom if you need me. Just go down the hallway where we went to the bathroom. It's on the right."

"Okay..." Roland craned his head as soon as the Guardian left.

His disappointment in himself was immeasurable.

* * *

"No-breath? More like _vomit-_ breath!"

Roland laughed at Myrtle's comment, but it made him uncomfortable knowing his breath really smelled that bad. He'd go and rinse his mouth out in the lake later.

"Did you actually get sick?" Myrtle asked, her smile fading a little. She seemed more concerned than anything now.

"Yeah, but... you don't need to worry about that," he said. He grinned a little more deviously. "I think you need to a better job with your names, though. You're getting unoriginal, Myrtle."

"Oh, I have plenty of names to call you, _lanky_." She planted her fist into his side. Roland grunted, still laughing.

"Not that that's gonna get to me, either, _fatty_."

"Fucker." She tossed her head aside as she, Roland, and the others entered the cave. Tris had this curious glint in her eyes, and Ashlyn was clearly confused and worried about him. They didn't need to worry much about him vomiting. Saying anything would probably just get them arguing about Wren anyway and, when he was already so close to getting his time powers and Wren figuring out how to get Drevon back, he knew he didn't need that. He was trying to be sceptical of the Guardian, but he was also just excited. "Nah, that's too good for you, Roland. You'll never do that."

"Wow. Coming from a virgin, no less."

"I got more chance than you ever will."

"Okay, guys, _chill_." Tris grinned. "I don't want to have to knock your heads together."

Roland took a seat beside Fluffy. The dreadwing was happy to see him again and seemed to grow even more cheerful when he noticed the wide grin on Roland's face. The red dragon rested his cheek on the dreadwing's side. He'd calmed himself after the immense disappointment he'd felt over himself. Tomorrow was a new day and, when he got to the point of releasing his magic again, he would _let it_ come out.

"That sounds like something Myrtle would do, Tris." Amused, Roland frowned.

"What can I say?" The electric dragoness shrugged. "She's cool, so copying her is therefore cool."

"You bet." Myrtle relaxed on the floor. She didn't seem comfortable atop the stone, but neither did anybody else. Roland felt a little selfish keeping the dreadwing to himself. Maybe he could ask if they wanted to join him and cuddle... No, nobody would want to do that with him. He brushed the thought away with a confused snicker at himself.

Tris turned her head to the blue dragoness, who was brushing the dirt away from the little crevice in the cave wall she'd grown attached to sitting in. "What did you get up to today, Ash?"

She spun around as though frightened, like she wasn't expecting to join in. "O-oh! Uh... I found some work in a stall in the market district. A dragoness was in a rush to get somewhere and needed somebody to take over the stall. I got the job as soon as I asked, and from what I was told, it pays pretty well. We'll be able to get some bedrolls by tomorrow!"

"Nice." Tris grinned after a nod. It was good to hear that they would be able to pay for comfort while living in this cold cave of theirs.

Myrtle, who'd only sat down moments ago, decided to stand again, eyes on the pile of branches and leaves and the circle of rocks they'd made in the centre of the cave for their fires. "Should probably get this fire started. Cold in here..."

She lifted some of the sticks and foliage and piled them into the middle of the stones. She pulled a matchbox from within her satchel, pushed the little cardboard box open, and drew the only remaining match inside. She struck it a few times against the side, eventually summoning a tiny, quivering flame on the end.

And, as soon as she held it over the unlit fuel, an icy breeze breathed into the entrance of the hollow, snuffing out the flame. Myrtle was disappointed by nature, the black twig between her toes falling to the ground..

"Well... Shit. That was the last one."

Tris laughed at Myrtle's rotten luck. "You know I could light these fires myself, right? With my electricity?"

"Yeah, but..." Myrtle seemed to stop, her brow creasing, but then she shrugged. "...Alright. Light the fire, then, silly."

Tris snickered and jumped up, eager to show off. She cracked her paws against the stone and drew her head back. But she didn't go further than that. She closed her eyes for a moment. Her maw seemed to quiver.

She stood there for a solid ten seconds without doing anything.

"Tris?" Roland voiced. "Are you... okay?"

Her breaths were getting faster.

"Uh..." Ashlyn leaned forward. "T-Tris?"

"You okay?" Myrtle took a step forward so she was beside her. She lowered a paw onto the yellow dragoness' back. Whatever Myrtle had to say, the yellow dragoness didn't seem capable of listening. "Hey, Tris..."

Something wasn't right...

" _Tris_ ," Myrtle said more forcefully. Finally, that seemed to snap Tristana out of her abnormal staring. She looked at Myrtle with wide eyes. "Um... Everything alright?"

Tris took a trembling breath. "I... I-I'm going to sit outside."

She took off in a slow jog through the exit of the cavern, into the light of the sunset. Roland jolted upright.

"Tris!" he called after her. It was, of course, no use. She was already gone. The three dragons watched as she padded down the hill and vanished around the side of the cave.

Roland had seen this behaviour before. Back when he'd been slashed by the skurvywing. She'd frozen up and hadn't let her element out. She'd been more panicked that time around because he'd gotten hurt, but it hadn't been too dissimilar to relate them to each other.

Myrtle traded looks with Roland, her face thick with disquiet. He peered at Ashlyn; she was still looking through the maw of the cave, in silent shock. Fluffy stood up behind him, staring at the cave wall like he could see where Tris had gone in such a hurry.

"What... just happened?" Ashlyn asked, voice so quiet Roland almost couldn't hear. He would've liked to know, too.

"I'm... gonna go check on her." Myrtle ran off after her without another word. She was probably a better candidate than any to do that.

A better candidate than him, at the very least.

"I'm so confused..." Roland looked at the floor. "Did we say something wrong? Is the thought of using magic making her panic?"

Ashlyn sunk into the floor, gripping the stone with tight fists. Her wings tightened around her body. "I don't know. I-I hope she's okay..."

Roland stood for a few moments longer before sitting down again. Fluffy looked down at him curiously, as if expecting him to do something about this.

"I... don't even know what I just saw, Fluffy." Roland peered up at him, then leaned against him once again. "All I know is that I'm worried, and... Myrtle can probably handle her."

Whatever it was, he felt pressured to figure it out, to fix this arising problem before it could happen again. But how would he begin to do that when he was still so confused, and why should he when nothing like that ever went his way anyhow?

"...Are you okay, Roland?" Ashlyn asked. Roland nodded quickly. Why would he be anything other than that?

"Yeah, of course. I'm not the one you should be worried about."

"S-sorry. I just don't like that... l-look you have."

He felt a smile rise on his face. "Thanks, but you didn't have to reinforce that I'm ugly."

"I-I... That's not what I meant! Y-you're not ugly!"

"I see. I guess somebody likes... _this,_ then." He flexed a leg. It was an absolutely pathetic attempt at showing strength. Ashlyn just shook her head at him.

"Can you take this a bit more seriously?" she said. Roland felt a pang of guilt. She was right. Not really the mood for jokes...

"Sorry. I just wanted to lighten the mood, Ashlyn."

Ashlyn looked down at herself, the frustration rooting on her face vanishing.

"No, it's... okay," she told him. "I was rude. I'm just worried about her... S-sorry."

Roland fell back a bit into the dreadwing. Fluffy whined and shook around a little, but he stopped complaining after a while. Seemed the dreadwing was awaiting some kind of order, possibly one to leave and assist the girls outside.

What harm could Fluffy do? Everybody loved the dreadwing, Tris especially...

"Go," Roland said with a sigh. Fluffy leaped over him. The red dragon fell sideways onto the floor with a gasp. His living cushion soared through the exit, and in the blink of an eye, he'd vanished without a noise.

Roland decided to hop up and sit next to Ashlyn, now that he was without anyone to sit with him. She didn't look up as he approached and sat before her, her gaze on the floor and the glistening ring on her toe.

"I want to go out there and help her..." Ashlyn peered longingly through the jagged mouth of the cave. "But I can't."

"Yeah. I would go out there, but considering how much help I've been for people..."

"R-Rol–"

"No, I really do just make everything worse, Ashlyn, and you can't argue with me on that. I wear people down when I keep asking them what's wrong and how I can fix it. It must be something about me that I can't help." He sighed. "Myrtle's got this anyway. She'd do a better job than me."

Ashlyn looked at him in disbelief. "Y-you... helped me."

He had done that, hadn't he?

"Gah..." Roland shook his head. He was letting the self-depreciating thoughts through again. He needed to keep himself from doing that, needed somebody to keep reminding him that he wasn't so awful. Ashlyn was pretty good at doing that. "Sorry, Ash. You're right. I'm being stupid."

Roland looked up as he heard pebbles kick along the ground, into the cave. He saw Myrtle first, her face a mixture of confusion and distress, then Fluffy, and then Tris. Tris was... _happier_ than she had been before. That, or she'd slid a mask over her feelings. He expected the latter.

"Tris?" he said as she came through and sat upon the floor. "Is everything...?"

"Yeah," she answered forcefully, coming out like a cough. "I-I'm just going to sit down and... and relax."

She was smiling now, but she'd looked on the verge of a panic attack before. Maybe it was better to leave her to her own devices at this stage.

There was a bit of talk before everybody decided to get an early night's sleep – nobody had seemed hungry. Roland and Myrtle had mostly spoke of plans tomorrow. They needed to get their paws on a boat. That was the main priority right now. He was going with Myrtle for that tomorrow, while Ashlyn and Tris went into the market to purchase supplies for cooking and so Ashlyn could do the job she'd obtained in her stroke of luck.

But he couldn't really focus on all that, not when he looked into Tristana's fake expression and could see the panic and the misery hidden within.

He tried to sleep. It was hard, but he eventually got there. He shut his eyes and turned off his mind for the night.


	32. Dawning Power

Dawning Power

Friday was just another normal day in Shimmervale. Flaky snow stippled the street Roland and Myrtle walked, early-rising birds fluttered overhead in a flurry of feathers, and people were just now heading out their doors, readying themselves for work and school. The street wasn't too busy, not like the market district always was, the place he and Myrtle had left Tris and Ashlyn behind in, but there was enough people here for most of the looks the pair of kids received to go unnoticed because they came from those hidden within the crowd. Roland knew there were eyes on him, though, and he couldn't help feeling at least a tiny bit annoyed. Couldn't they leave him alone?

No... It wasn't like they understood anyway. Drevon was more important than anybody here. If he had to embrace the gaze of thousands to get to him, so be it. It wasn't a huge deal.

Luckily for him, as he and Myrtle padded to the docks and the shimmering sea (from which Roland was sure Shimmervale had earned its name), the people began to clear away. The wooden pier puncturing the water in prongs, like a multi-headed spear, lay vast before them. Timber creaked and thumped and scraped as his claws landed upon interlinked boards. The sun in the east was a wavering ball of fire, resting over the top of a gilded ocean. Where the waves stretched on, the colour deepened and turned sapphire.

Roland's steady gaze flicked over the top of boats and ships drowsing in the stillness of the ocean. He followed Myrtle as they approached the hut sitting upon the sea. Despite the earliness of the morning, the sign read it was open, which put a thankful smile on his face. It made Myrtle sigh in relief, too, like she'd been hoping they hadn't set out too early.

That was something she wouldn't have to add to the list of things she was dealing with, at least. He was almost scared of the look on her face when she'd woken up this morning. Once again, no sleep whatsoever, but now her mood had been ruined. Her eyes were set, baggy, and revealed her obvious discomfort.

She'd have a bedroll to sleep in soon enough, but Roland didn't believe that was the problem. In fact, he was _sure_ it wasn't. He knew what the issue was. And he had a feeling everybody else saw it, too. That discrete glance Ashlyn had given him before, Tris watching as Myrtle left the cave to get some fresh air, and even Fluffy, who'd obviously sensed what she was feeling.

Dealing with this was impertinent; he'd been adamant about it yesterday. But what if he said the wrong thing again? What if asking made her snap? He feared her reaction would be less than stellar.

Nobody else seemed game to ask her, either. Tris was pretending it wasn't happening and was stuck trying to make her feel better with laughs and jokes, Ashlyn wouldn't say a single thing to her anyway, and Fluffy... Well, he only spoke in screams, whimpers, and purrs. His quiet comforting wasn't enough.

Everybody wanted to bring it up, but it was just so touchy a subject. He remembered the way she'd acted in the vault. Roland hadn't seen her in a worse mood before, hadn't seen her self-hatred since then. What if those feelings surfaced again and she did something rash, like she'd seemed to be planning to before he'd talked her down?

Tristana's panic last night didn't seem to help much with her mood, either. He wondered what she'd heard the electric dragoness say.

"Roly?" Myrtle voiced his nickname, paw hovering above the wooden door knob. He snapped out of his train of thought. "You've been gettin' real distracted by things, y'know? This time you're absolutely fascinated by yours truly. Am I doin' somethin' wrong?"

"No," he said. It came out with a bit too much force; it was almost like a cough. "You should be used to this by now, though, Myrtle. I'm always thinking about things."

"Must be my incredible looks then." She came out with a couple laughs. He knew she wasn't so ignorant, however. She was fully aware his unsettled eyes were staring right through her, into her heart and the problem within. She knew he could see straight through the mask of blame. The cold rock floor wasn't her problem.

When she turned around, her expression hidden, Roland felt he knew what she was thinking about. She hated the kind of attention she was bringing to herself. She hated the glances she received from her friends more than those of the people on the street. She hated them worrying over her.

Roland guessed he and Myrtle weren't so dissimilar. Probably why they were good friends in the first place. But that wasn't the point...

How did he solve this impossible problem? And could _he_ even do it? He'd make everything worse again, wouldn't he?

"Get your head out of the clouds, Roly," Myrtle called, annoyed with him standing as stiff as stone atop the pier. Roland shook his head free of thought and padded after her. He'd almost forgotten he was here to buy a ship. After hearing about the high prices of everything in Shimmervale, Roland wasn't sure if they would actually have the money to get one now, but it'd be a good start to price them.

Myrtle twisted the door knob and allowed herself entrance. A dangling bell on the other side of the door chimed, quick and high-pitched. They entered a dark boxy room, deep brown boards lit only by a single bulb of light hanging from a wire. Right in front of them was a counter, an older dragon of blue and green bowing over it, shuffling papers on the desk, a desk lamp positioned over the top of them. Roland took notice of plaques, trophies, and old newspapers spread across the walls of the room; seemingly, they'd been earned for reigning victorious in fishing and boating competitions.

They walked up to the counter and propped themselves up on their hind legs to see over it, front paws held against its edge. The dragon behind it peered down at them, in surprise and confusion.

"Kids? In my shop?" He frowned, looking closer at them, as though to confirm they were, in fact, children. Roland caught a nasty whiff of ancient, ocean-washed dragon, a scent like salt and sweat mixed together in a vat. Even _Roland_ hadn't reeked as poorly when he hadn't been washing himself and living in the sewers. His nose threatened to shrivel up at the pungent smell. He almost gagged, but he held himself back well enough.

"Yeah. We're lookin' for a boat," Myrtle said, straight to the point. Seemed she wanted out of here more than anything. "Prices aren't listed outside, so I guess you're lookin' to discuss it."

"You'd be right, but what do a couple'a kids like yehself want with a boat?" the dragon asked. "Why ain't ya in school, either?"

"It's a long story," Roland said. "We're allowed out here, though. The guards won't stop us."

"And how do I know y'ain't lyin', kiddo?"

"They would've already taken us," Myrtle replied. "C'mon, sea dude, we're tryna give you business. We've got money."

It seemed the mention of coin was more than enough to give them a free pass anyway. The owner of the boat shack lifted his claws off the papers and flared his wings in a stretch. Roland could almost hear those old bones creak. "Hey, well... as long as I don't get in trouble for this. Come with me. I'll help ya find what you're lookin' for."

Myrtle seemed relieved as she walked out the door, and Roland could very well understand why. As he moved outside, the odour faded and the crisp ocean air breathed over him. He'd never relished so much in the outside before.

"So what are ya lookin' for?" the owner of the store asked. "Big boats? Wee boats? What do ya need the boat for?"

"We, uh... like fishing," Roland said. He hoped his ruse wouldn't be smashed down. He knew next to nothing about fishing.

"Fishin'? At this time of year?" The old dragon was bewildered. "You're not gonna find anythin' out there right now. At least, not in the sea around here. Maybe a couple'a venomnail, but ya don't want those..."

"We're just buying in preparation for summer." Roland held his breath in anticipation of the older dragon's response. Thankfully, his predictable lie went unnoticed by the store owner.

"Ah, I see. Well, if you're gonna fish, I'd suggest this one over here. If ya got coin, it's the best..." The dragon picked up the pace, legs cracking as he did so. Roland followed along with Myrtle right behind. They passed several smaller vessels, all long and angular, with barely any room for an adult dragon, to find a larger one resting in the water at the edge of the pier.

Roland found the look of this one to be just about perfect. There was enough room on board for him and his companions if he wouldn't mind feeling cramped, and it came with oars and a rippling white sail. It looked a bit old – the timber planks were worn – but it looked capable enough. His only concern was the price of it.

"This one's a good one," the dragon said. "Quiet in the water so you won't scare the fishies, big enough for a crew of ya but easy to use if there's not many of ya... It'd be perfect for fishin'. It's not all that expensive, either."

"How much?" the green dragoness questioned.

"Well, it's not that bad." The older dragon laughed. "A thousand copper and it's yours."

" _A thousand_!?" Roland exclaimed. This dingy little piece of shit was worth a _thousand_ coins? How in the Realms...?

The old dragon nodded. "Yep. I'd say that's pretty normal around here, though. Where have you been livin' all ya life?"

"We can give you... a hundred copper?" Myrtle smiled pleadingly, ignoring the question. It wasn't even worth the attempt to haggle with this shopkeeper. They didn't have the money to do it with.

"You're hilarious," was all the dragon responded with.

Roland felt as though he should've expected this. Just a _bedroll_ cost an exorbitant fee in this city. There was no way they could've ever afforded a ship. Their time had been wasted.

Roland peered around in search of a different boat, one that looked cheaper and smaller, but there was no way he and every companion could fit on those, and the rest were larger and most likely too expensive. There simply was no way they could get their paws on a boat here. At least, not right now. Maybe if Ashlyn's job pulled in enough money...

"If ya don't have anythin' to spend, then scram." The smelly dragon pointed towards the city. "I don't wanna waste me time with a couple'a kids who could get me in trouble."

"Sheesh." Myrtle turned around, her frustrated, exhausted gaze narrowed. She lowered her voice to but a breath. "Dickhead..."

"Let's go," Roland told Myrtle, gently patting the earth dragoness on the back, careful to keep away from her wings. He wanted away from this dragon anyway. That awful stench was coming back. "We'll have more money later on. Ashlyn's working a job here, remember?"

Myrtle nodded slightly, but said nothing more. They left the boat salesman on the pier and sauntered back to the city.

Once they placed their feet upon stone again, Roland gave Myrtle another look. After the frustration of not being able to purchase the boat, she appeared to be in an even worse mood. Her eyes were half-open, tired and definitely irritated. She barely lifted her paws off the ground as she moved, shifting like a snake over yellowed dunes. That cheerful, confident look she almost always wore was nowhere to be seen.

Maybe they could talk about it?

...No, that'd barely help her. She wouldn't say anything anyway. He'd come out of it fruitless Maybe something fun was in order then? Roland hummed to himself.

Myrtle took notice, her brow deepening. "What is it?"

"What do you wanna do?" He slid a little closer to her, weaving past a dragon walking by. "Is there anything you wanna do before we head back to the markets to meet with the others? I doubt they're done shopping yet. Those markets are huge..."

She merely shrugged. "I dunno."

"We could, uh..." Roland darted his eyes about. They fell upon a stall resting by the seaside, a surprisingly long line of people waiting before it. Seemed it was a baker's stall by the looks of things, and they were selling assorted food items, from savoury to sweet. Roland licked his chops at the thought of an apple pie, but he wasn't going to pay a ridiculously bloated price for one here in Shimmervale, not even if it was his favourite meal. "I was about to suggest we get something to eat because we didn't have – wait, hang on."

He stopped on the spot, squinting into the line of people. A face he knew stood in that line, one he didn't think he would see again – nor did he want to see. A dragon of orange scales and ivory horns. He resembled Wren in a nigh uncanny way.

Brenton. Warfang's Guardian of fire.

He saw the orange dragon glance at him, then look away as if it were nothing. Roland froze for the longest second he'd ever experienced.

"Get over here," Roland hissed as he draped a wing over Myrtle and yanked her with all his strength behind a wooden cart beside one of the stone spires. Myrtle gasped in shock.

"R-Roland!" she whispered back, tripping into him. He was almost knocked over by her, but he managed to find his footing just in time. "What are you–"

"That was the Guardian of fire," he explained. Myrtle shut her trap, knowing full well what that entailed. "I... I don't know if he saw me or not."

Myrtle rolled her shoulders and wings, the sudden movement having caused them discomfort. She peered around the corner of the cart to get a peek. "He's over in that line, yeah? Is he... the orange one?"

"Yes and yes."

Myrtle turned around, eyes set on the red drake. "Don't worry about him, then. He wouldn't know you're the time dragon." She took a few steps away from the cart and ushered him over with a claw. "We should go before he comes towards us, though. Let's move."

He was probably too far away to feel Roland's special mana anyway. Wren only brought it up when he was right next to him, so it was safe to assume Brenton couldn't feel it from over there, either. If he had been seen, then Brenton would've only thought he was a troublemaker and nothing more.

And in that case, Myrtle was right. They needed to go.

He followed her back around the corner, making sure to keep out of sight of the Guardian. With that scare out of the way, the two made haste towards the markets so they could catch up with their friends, for they thought it best to get as far away from him as they could.

* * *

"Hurry up, slowpoke!" Tris called to Roland as they padded along. Suddenly, the yellow dragoness had wanted Roland to go with her and Myrtle to Alevor's workshop. He was supposed to be heading for Wren's house to practice his magic, but she had insisted that he come with her, stressed the _absolute importance_ of this trip to the blacksmith.

"Just tell me why we're going there!" he exclaimed.

Myrtle looked back with a grin on her face. The fatigue she faced was still present, but something about being near Tristana seemed to cause a shift in her mood, sparking a newfound fuse of cheeriness. He could take a guess as to why that was, and knowing what it was made him want to chuckle; the only thing that mattered was that she was feeling a bit better, though.

"Don't worry about it, Roly!" Myrtle said. "If you hurry up, we won't take long!"

"Can't you just _explain_?" He caught up with Tris and Myrtle, breath coming in lengthy puffs. They skidded to a halt before Alevor's shop, scaring off a jittery group of birds pecking at loose crumbs on the stone.

"It's a secret. You'll find out eventually." Tris smirked, strolling up to the smithy. How Roland loathed having things kept from him. It was obviously supposed to be a surprise, however, so he was willing to go along with it.

Was Tris making something for him? A gift? What had he done to deserve this?

"Hey, Ale!" Tris yelled as she approached the door. "Are you in there?!"

A loud clang of metal resounded through the entire building. A chair creaked inside, somebody getting up.

"Aye, Tris!" Alevor shouted back, fumbling with resonant, clashing iron inside. "Just... gimme a sec!"

Tris giggled as she walked away from the door. "He _always_ needs a sec."

A few seconds of clattering around inside later, a figure kicked through the door with his heavy boot. Alevor stood before them, his gloved hands clasping a tangled mess of rusty scrap metal and unprocessed ore.

"Hello, Myrtle and Tris!" he said as he dropped the iron and steel upon his workbench outside. "And to you, Roland. I wasn't expecting the girls to want you here so soon."

"Shh!" Tris and Myrtle both hissed at the same time.

Alevor nodded in understanding. "Ah, yes. A _secret_ , they've told me."

"Could you maybe... tell me what it is?" Roland grinned widely, sitting upon his haunches.

"I would, Roland, but Myrtle would probably blast me to smithereens." The llama laughed to himself. "Besides... Your reaction is something I wanna see, too."

"Damn it." The red drake bent his head down, annoyed. Why couldn't they just tell him? He'd be grateful either way!

"Don't look like that, ya dork." Myrtle teasingly slapped the side of his scaly hide. "You've just gotta wait a bit. And let us... _experiment_ on you."

After Wren's experiment, he wasn't so keen on the word anymore. "What kind of experiment?"

"Don't scare him, Myrtle!" Tris said with a good laugh.

"But it's _funny_ , Tris," Myrtle responded. Tris rolled her eyes, then turned to Roland with a calming, confident smile.

"Don't worry, Roland. We just have to measure something."

Roland shook a little in anticipation for whatever this meant. Myrtle, obviously, took notice.

"Aww... Little Roly really _is_ scared."

Roland glared. "You're evil, Myrtle. The absolute worst."

"You don't think I'm already aware?"

"Okay, guys..." Tris intervened before their playing could go further. She held a length of thin, flexible material in her paw, numbers written along its surface indicating millimetres and metres. She walked past Alevor – he stood off to the side, arms folded, amused – and raised the measuring tape. "Sit still, Roland. I need a good measurement for this to be perfect."

Tris and Myrtle stood on their hind legs, then balanced themselves by each placing a paw atop Roland's shoulders. Roland watched in confusion as she put the end of the strip against his temple, then wrapped it around his head. Once it coiled around his skull, Myrtle held it still while Tris read the measurement out loud and found a piece of a paper to quickly scribble it on.

"Uh..." Roland chuckled slightly. Myrtle hushed him as she took the length of numbered material and let Tris calculate the distance again. "What are you..."

"I said _shus_ _h_." Myrtle frowned as Tris wrote down the next measurement. Then, Myrtle surveyed the distance between his horns, and once again had the yellow dragoness read it aloud and write it down. Alevor didn't make noise, but with the way his chest was heaving, Roland could tell the llama was laughing, albeit quietly, at him.

"There we go!" Tris took the measuring tape back and gave it back to the atlawa. Then she turned around again and pushed her paws together. "Done! You can go now."

"...That's it?" Roland asked. He'd been suspecting something more demanding than standing around and letting the girls measure the size of his cranium. "What are you doing with the measurements? Making me a helmet?"

"Stop tryna guess and just wait, damn it," Myrtle replied, exasperated with his constant begging for information. "We'll show you when we're done. You'll love it. I'm sure."

"If _you're_ making it, I doubt that." He chuckled. Myrtle gave him a dodgy glare, like she was tempted to whack him. "Fine, fine... You've got this, Myrtle! I _believe in you_!"

"Shut the fuck up." She flicked him, so hard that it kind of stung; Roland held back a wince. He knew he deserved it, at least, for his sarcasm. Myrtle was enjoying their constant back-and-forth either way. "I'll hit you with my rock pillar again."

"Okay, okay!" He thrust a paw up in defence. No, he _really_ didn't need to experience that again. "I'll play nice."

"Good. Don't forget that." Myrtle gave his leg a firm pat and walked back to Tris, a pleased look on her face.

"We better let you go anyway," Tris said, looking over the old metals and ores splayed along the workbench. "You need to go to Wren's, and Myrtle and I need to begin working through this iron."

He wanted to stay and figure out what it was they were working on – he had a feeling it was a helmet of some kind, custom-built specifically for his head and unique horns. They weren't going to tell him, however, so he'd have to wait and see.

"Why are you making this for me?" he asked. "Why do I–"

"We'll show you soon, Roland!" Tris interrupted as she and Myrtle walked into Alevor's door. "Bye!"

What had he done for them to inspire them to do this? He wished he knew.

"Don't worry about them, Roland." Alevor stepped over, hands on his hips. "They just wanted to do something special for you. Aye... From what they've told me, you probably deserve it."

Roland cocked his head. "I don't understand."

Alevor gave him a pat between the horns, as though the young dragon were a hound. "As I said, lad, don't worry about it. You'll see soon enough. Now, run off. You have places to be."

He stood still for a few moments as Alevor paced off to join the two dragons inside the room, head craned towards the floor, eyes in a perplexed squint, before he decided to pad off. He'd figure it out later. It they needed to keep it this hidden from him, it was probably important to them that it stayed that way for now.

Oh well. He had time magic to practice anyway. Maybe he'd finally get that to work, and then something good could come out of today...

* * *

The road to Wren's house was empty at this time of day. Everybody in Rookborough Avenue was either out at work or imprisoned in school. The silence under the midday clouds and the sparse sunlight relaxed him. The misty breath passing through his nostrils and his footfalls in the snow were all he could hear. Not even a chirp from the birds perched on the trees.

Everything was quiet, like the flow of time had come to a sudden halt. Of course, that wasn't true. The naked branches of the avenue's trees wriggled in the slight wind. Through chimneys, smoke plumed into the sky from dying fires. Snow fluttered to the earth and gently stroked the scales and spines lining the red dragon's back. He snapped and caught a piece in his mouth and snickered to himself.

All was fine now. He was alone. He could take a small break from the chaos of his life.

He wished everything could be calm like this to no end. If the Ancestors could grant him that one blessing, he'd be eternally jovial. If they could fix the problems of his friends, of himself, of the whole _world..._ Things would be a thousand times better for everyone if he could just have Drevon back.

That was why he was going after him in the first place. That, and he wanted nothing more than to see his best friend again.

Why was Drevon even cursed?

Roland shook his head. No, there was no point in thinking like that anymore. Drevon was having a run of terrible luck. All that mattered was that he _was_ cursed and that he needed the curse _vanquished_.

If only it was just a tad easier, like everything had been in Firemore.

"...I really have to grow up."

Why was he so, _so_ naïve? _Like everything had been in Firemore_? He needed to move past that and look to the future. Drevon wasn't here and it was his responsibility to get him back. It was never going to be easy to do that. Life didn't work that way. At least, not anymore. Things were different now.

He needed to get his mind off of this and focus on a way to save Drevon, not that he _needed saving_. He was better off thinking about his time magic, something that had totally slipped his mind this morning. Not that it mattered; he wouldn't have practised anyway. Roland didn't have enough confidence being by himself to try and use it. Without Wren's guidance, he could mess up again and waste all of the mana inside himself. What he would do when he arrived at Wren's house then? He didn't want another one of those overpowered spirit gems, that was for sure...

Roland raised his head, peering forward. Wren's house was just to the side. One knock on the door and he'd be on his way to feeling his time magic again, perhaps even using it.

He stopped, eyes catching a flash of movement from the closest alleyway on the left, so quick he wondered if he'd seen anything at all. It had been a rippling dash of green, but that was all he'd made out. He peered closer, around the area, but saw nothing more.

Curious, Roland crept forward. Rookborough Avenue was totally abandoned, but he swore he'd seen something moving. He ducked into the alleyway, flicking his gaze over the buildings. He hadn't even seen where it'd gone. Was something trying to run from him?

He backed up quickly, scanning the roofs. There was no sign of that green anywhere. Had it been his imagination?

No, he wasn't going to disregard it as nothing... He was certain there had been something. He was _absolutely_ _positive_.

Roland jumped into the air, flapping his wings, gaining altitude. He looked all over the angular roofs, yet his mind only seemed to be deceiving him. He was all alone out here. It couldn't have just been his brain drawing pictures...

Maybe it was. Was this stress making him go insane?

He doubted it was that important anyway. If there had really been a blur of movement, it probably only belonged to some little animal skittering through the shadows. He chose to ignore it, thinking it better that he didn't waste his time searching for something insignificant, and spread his wings, gliding towards the home in which Wren resided.

He lighted on the doorstep, bounced towards the doorway, and delivered a few knocks. Heavy, swift footfalls grew closer, until they were right behind the door. It swung open with a click and an indistinct moan, Wren positioned just beyond it.

"Ah, Roland," the Guardian greeted. "It's good to see you. I hope you've slept well."

"It was alright." Roland shrugged. He looked behind him, still paranoid over whether he had actually seen anything or not. As he turned back to Wren, he felt the need to hurry things along. "Let's go inside."

"Yes, of course. No need to stay out here." Wren paced back in. "Close the door on your way in."

Roland pushed it shut with his tail. It calmed him to be in a place where nobody could see him, definitely after the fright he'd felt out there. He let his muscles loosen.

"I think I've figured out why you seemed to use all of your mana without doing a single thing, Roland," Wren said, peering just over his shoulder. "The only reasonable explanation I could come to was that you held it back. Disappointing, to say the least."

Roland felt his ligaments tighten again. "Would you be mad if I said yes?"

"No," was the Guardian's surprising response. Once again, the red drake relaxed. "I know the feeling of using magic for your first time through your mouth. It's a very similar feeling to vomit. It isn't pleasant and I can understand why you might've held it back. Today, however, if we can spark that same magic from you, I would like you to go through with it. Let it come out. We almost had it yesterday."

Roland gave a subtle nod. He had to do what he had before, and then force the magic out. Easy enough. It didn't sound so difficult when put that way.

"How did I use all of my mana when I swallowed it?" Roland asked. "I thought maybe I would've gotten the mana back."

"Once mana leaves the potenthalus and is focused into magic of any kind, it is dissolved. Swallowing your magic after the mana has been converted can actually be very dangerous for you. I'd advise you don't do that."

"Dangerous?" Roland frowned, a little worried over that. Could his own magic murder him?

Wren gave a solemn bow of his head. "We are generally resistant to the element we use and our bodies have a built-in system that tries to destroy magic we swallow again. But there have been cases where dragons have gone to use furies through their mouths, then held them back and were seriously injured in an elemental blast because they couldn't contain the magic. Some have even died."

Roland shuddered at the thought of being turned into a bloody, ashen mess from his own element.

"But don't worry so much." Wren chuckled shortly at the face Roland gave. The two dragons stopped in the living room as they moved past the T. "It would take extreme amounts of magic to do that, and you certainly cannot pull off that much of an effect yet..."

"I... think I might have, actually," Roland said. "Remember when I said my magic used itself?"

"Ah, yes, I forgot. What happened there?"

"I'm about to die in an explosion, and then my time magic reacts and saves me by making a huge crystal form around me. And then the crystal shatters from the blast. To be honest, I don't understand how that's supposed to be related to time at all."

Wren smiled at this knowledge, taking a seat in his basket of cushions. Roland followed his lead, sitting down in his own. "You've heard the story of Spyro, right? After the battle with the ape king, Gaul?"

"I don't remember what happened after that," Roland answered. "I know Spyro was able to use time magic, though."

"Spyro recounted the events by saying a huge crystal formed around him and his allies as the Well of Souls collapsed on top of them. He used his magic to fuel the crystal's strength and keep it from shattering. Then, as the mountain went still, he let go and the crystal protected him. Apart from the growth and healing of his body, it kept him entirely still, as though in stasis. The strangest part was that he had no clue he could do that. It just kind of... _happened_. He seemed to know what to do, but he had no idea about the effect it would have."

Roland scratched his chin. "I had no clue what to do, though. I just stood there and it worked."

The Guardian shook his head. "Magic doesn't work the same for everyone. It's an unpredictable thing, Roland. Perhaps if those long gone could've researched Spyro's time powers, I could give you a better answer, but Spyro's time magic disappeared after the fight with Gaul for unknown reasons. He got his other magic abilities back after the stasis, but not the time ones..."

"Yeah... I guess that makes sense." Roland stood up in his basket. "Anyway... Shouldn't we be practising time magic?"

"All this chatting has almost made me forget entirely!" Enthusiastically, Wren got to his feet and spun around, towards the prayer room. "Let us hope we can get that magic out this time. I have a good feeling today."

* * *

Roland breathed in.

There was something about the light this time. The way it swayed like an incarnation of confidence caught the red dragon off-guard. Maybe it was just mimicking the way he felt. Even despite past failures and the shame of holding his element back, he was positive, one-hundred percent sure, that he would finally be able to get it out.

He felt like the Ancestors really were powering him now.

The rising tide of warmth came forth, of heated mana, a feeling familiar now after these days of practice. The flickering orange light started moving faster, as though time was warping around it. It'd felt weak before, but now that Roland finally felt sure, he could feel it agreeing with him. Seemed his mana lived off belief in himself.

He breathed out.

It all started to slow again, just like before. The freezing of the amber glow happened once more; it was crystalline in appearance, somehow glinting light off its body that didn't exist in the void of his mind. There was a tinge of coolness in the bottom of his gut, but without applying the force to bring the magic forth, it vanished quickly.

"You're... _stronger_ ," Wren said.

Roland had a feeling he knew what to do now. It was becoming instinct and he hadn't even used the time magic yet. He felt like he could try forcing it himself.

But he was waiting for Wren's signal. He didn't trust himself fully to let it out without guidance or the signal from Wren. The only reason he felt any sort of confidence was because he was with a Guardian.

"Keep going." The Guardian's voice revealed his intrigue. "I can feel its heat. Like it's... powering up."

Roland let the light continue. It danced in front of him, put on a whole show. The thought of snatching at that raw power was tantalising. He wanted to reach out and pull it closer, into his chest, embrace it tightly. But there was no way he was going to do that. He was better off lying still, like a predator in wait, until he was finally given the command.

He inhaled again. As if it desired to be grabbed, the orange started getting closer. It thought it could sneak forward and entertain him more, then run away at the first sign of any force. It wasn't getting away from him so easily today.

This was his chance to become a dragon.

"Go, Roland. Force it out."

Roland tensed hard. He felt like he was surging forward as his mind dashed after that power. As expected, it shot away, faster than he could ever imagine, until the heat in his gut became a pitiful cold. The orange light froze and quivered. For a second, he almost thought he'd lost it again.

But he certainly wasn't done just yet.

Further and further. He pushed himself as far as he could. The crystal was getting closer. It shivered more and more, until it was rattling.

Finally, he tried to grab at it.

It was coming through his throat again, freezing mana that burned for a moment. He felt the reflex to gag and swallow whatever the magic was. He only just held that back.

His mouth opened, his eyelids pulled themselves wide, and from his maw came a wave of orange light. A crystal careened through the air, whizzed inches from Wren's face, and smashed into the stone dragon statuette atop the pillar in front of him.

It took him a while to register his handiwork, but when he did, he was beyond confused. The stone had smashed, but the fragments were still soaring through the air with the shattered crystal, as though in slow-motion. His vision was tinted a light shade of blue. Everything distorted around him.

Within a few seconds, though, everything went back to normal.

Wren stared at the destroyed statuette in awe over what he'd witnessed. Roland only now realised, after peering down at the work of his magic for a few more moments, that he really had just used his mana. He was bewildered.

And then he was overjoyed.

"I actually used magic," Roland said in disbelief. "I... really did it!?"

Wren had the biggest smile Roland had ever seen. "You used your magic, Roland! It was as I foresaw. Your magic just worked a little differently to how I originally expected."

There had been magic waiting inside him all this time. It had _actually_ been there. His heart was pounding in his chest, thumping in triumph.

He'd felt that it'd be strange to obtain an element at this point, but he somehow knew that it was _meant_ for him. He could still feel his mana now. It wasn't that warming sensation that the others had spoken of. It was cold, in a way he could never truly describe. It felt familiar and close, but new and distant. It was probably one of the oddest things he'd ever had.

But it felt so _nice_. He didn't think he would care so much, but he _really_ did, like some kind of innate, natural inclination to feel pride in himself. He wanted to imagine little fireworks going off in his head.

It faded now, however. Slowly but surely, the feeling of his magic disappeared, and once again he was left empty, having used almost every drop of his mana reserve.

"The effects of your magic... They're so unique, too!" Wren bounced over to the destroyed statue in child-like wonder. Seemed he didn't mind having his religious symbol destroyed after seeing Roland's magic. Wherever the crystals had landed didn't matter anymore, for the chunks seemed to have evaporated just like those before it. "Did you see the way the stone floated through the air? Oh, this opens up so much study! I need to figure out how this works!"

"I'm... n-not dreaming, am I?" Roland suddenly felt totally drained. That single bit of magic had worn him out somehow.

"I assure you this is real!" Wren looked back at him. "You seem very exhausted after that, but that's only to be expected. It's normal for a young dragon to feel this way after letting out their first blast of magic. With time, you won't burn through your mana nearly as easily. It'll come quicker and without nearly as much thought as you practice, and that will save you wasting your mana and strength."

"I... feel like a _dragon_ now," Roland said in wonder. "Before I was just a... Well, a lizard with wings, really."

"Some dragons think that way, that their magic is what defines them, but that is _not_ the case." Wren sat down on the floor, gathering the rubble into a pile with his paws. "Your element may be absolutely fascinating, but remember that you're more than your element, Roland."

Of course, it was silly to think like that. Roland nodded in agreement. "Yeah... Anyway, what now?"

"You must be drained of mana because I can't feel the magic anymore. I would offer you a spirit gem, but we know how that went last time..." Wren snickered softly at the thought. "You can wait here for your friends to return?"

"We're gonna meet outside the city today," Roland told him. "I guess I can leave you here to study?"

"Sounds fine to me." Wren waved him off. "Goodbye, Roland. Let's hope we're just as successful tomorrow as we were today."

"I hope so." Roland laughed as he left the prayer room, Wren, and the destroyed statuette behind. He took off running, wings spread apart as if in a glide, and almost chortled to himself in glee.

The tale of no-breath was finally over.


	33. War of Ours

War of Ours

Roland laughed as he lifted the object by his feet, a thick branch washed in dreadwing slobber. He drew his front paw back, watched a determined Fluffy gaze upon the stick, then sent it soaring through the forest. Fluffy blasted off, nearly knocking Roland off balance. The dreadwing tore through the frozen leaves of a tree and snatched the stick out of the air with his jaws. He grunted in pride through a mouthful of timber and came flapping back, triumphant.

The red dragon clapped for the dreadwing, cheering him on. It was only seconds after throwing it that he was able to snap it out of the sky. He was impressed by the beast's agility.

When Fluffy dropped the branch onto the grass overlooking the small drop-off Roland sat atop, the red dragon ruffled the hair atop his head. Fluffy's forked tongue fell from his maw and drooled over Roland's other paw. He laughed as he shook his sopping toes clean.

"You're _such_ a good boy. Aren't you?"

Fluffy gave a very unsubtle nod. He was _definitely_ a good boy, but he could use some work on his modesty. Not that Roland was going to tear him down in his moment of victory, though. He was proud of his hairy companion.

"He really is just a dog with wings, isn't he?" Tristana came forth, walking up to Roland from behind. He turned around while Fluffy shook off his snow-smothered coat.

"The _best_ dog with wings." He rubbed the dreadwing's side. Tris let out a low snicker. "How'd you sleep, Tris?"

"It was, uh..." She shrugged. "I didn't sleep well, unfortunately. We do have bedrolls now, thanks to Ashlyn, but I slept worse than I did the night before. I kept waking up all night."

Roland could guess why. She'd been staring at Myrtle a lot when she wasn't looking back, specifically at the swelling redness of her wing membranes and those deep, baggy eyes. Myrtle had finally passed out from a lack of sleep, but he wasn't sure how much she'd get or if it would even help.

There was also that thing troubling Tristana, making her panic whenever she went to use her element. That probably wasn't helping much, either.

"What about you?" Tris asked before awkward silence could settle in. She took a seat next to him and gave the dreadwing a soft rub. Fluffy was loving the amount of attention today. "You flopped over as soon as we got back and wouldn't budge. I guess finally using your magic exhausted you, huh?"

"Yeah," he replied, "I felt really drained after that... I'm so happy I managed to use it, though. Slept pretty well, too."

She smiled in glee. He'd told them all about what he'd accomplished yesterday. Everybody, even Myrtle, who was beyond weary, shared his enthusiasm. "I can imagine! I remember when I first used my element. I was _so_ excited. I was waiting my whole life to let out that first spark, and when it came... That was such an amazing feeling."

"It was incredible. Not like anything I've ever felt before. I've never been that proud of myself."

"And I thought you said you wouldn't care about having an element," she jested. Roland remembered that comment and all those feelings about being called no-breath. His mindset had changed in no more than an instant. Magic _was_ amazing. He could fully grasp why those dragons who believed they were nothing more than their element felt that way, even if that wasn't a decent belief to have. "But yeah, I understand. It's a great feeling. I'm very happy for you, Roland."

"I wonder what else I can do with my time powers." He furrowed his brow. "If I can make crystals that warp time around them, then what other things? Will I be able to shoot crystals that stop time entirely? Can I maybe even control all of time itself? Can I... Can I travel through time?"

If time travel were possible, then he wouldn't even need to go on this quest. He could head back to Firemore, travel to a point before Carolin passed away, and fix absolutely _everything_. He could go back to his old life again.

Of course, it was silly to think like that. There was no reason in it. That certainly couldn't be possible, or at least he would need power far beyond his own capabilities.

"That sounds _too_ powerful, even for somebody special like you." Tris chuckled. Curiosity altered that smile she had eventually, though. "But... we don't exactly know that. Maybe you could. That would be amazing. That might make you better than me!"

"Hell no." Roland brushed that thought aside. He didn't have that kind of dedication, to consume every last smidgen of knowledge about his element. All he needed to know was how to get Drevon back. Sure, maybe this crystal ability he'd picked up would come in handy, but the main thing that mattered was the purple dragon. He was eager to get back to Wren's house and learn more for that reason.

He needed to ask Wren if he had a better idea on how to get Drevon back now. Perhaps figuring out how time mana worked had helped him make a new discovery in the pool of visions.

He was suddenly full of excitement. Soon, he'd have more power. Power to free Drevon from the curse of the wyverns and get his friend back. He couldn't wait to train more; he should've given that Guardian far more credit than he had because he really _was_ helping. Not that Roland felt he should chastise himself over that, though. He'd already been wronged plenty of times.

It just felt so good to be going places with his powers now. No longer were they a mysterious force locked away, deep inside himself.

"O-oh, hi," a new voice spoke, Ashlyn's, surprised to see Roland and Tris outside at this time. Roland had flipped open his pocket watch earlier and the hands were minutes off seven o'clock. "I thought we were going to sleep in because of Roland and Myrtle. You two are up early today."

"So are you," Tris responded with a trace of humour. Ashlyn nodded, giggling at the comment. "How did you sleep, Ash?"

"The bedroll was better than sleeping on the rocks." She sat down near them. Fluffy huddled around the three dragons, his wings shielding them from the nippy breeze. "I felt a lot better after I ate something more than roasted meat last night, too. Vegetables are nice for a change... V-vegetables that _you_ didn't have!"

Ashlyn pointed accusingly at Roland, as though he'd made a major mistake. Roland thought she was playing, but she seemed genuinely annoyed and perturbed by him not eating anything.

He shrugged. "I was exhausted. I couldn't help dozing off."

"Well, I'm giving you double the food next time..." she grumbled. "You shouldn't be starving yourself."

Roland gave a low chuckle. Her care for his well-being was humorous to him sometimes. "I think you're over-exaggerating, Ash."

"No, she's right," Tris said. "You barely ate anything yesterday. You could make yourself sick like that, Roland."

"E-exactly." Ashlyn fell back onto her hind paws, her front legs knitted across her breast. She looked almost... disappointed in him.

He'd gone on like this for more than a single day without food before. He used to barely eat back in Firemore, when he could see the thick outline of his ribs poking through his scales. It wasn't like he hadn't wanted to or like meals weren't readily available. Most of the time he'd just forgotten to consume anything. He'd never been a particularly peckish dragon.

They had a point, though. If anything, even if he didn't think he would get sick, he didn't want to become the attenuated dragon he'd once been. He was _still_ thin, enough for Myrtle to keep calling him lanky, but his bones were far less pronounced now. He'd even go as far as to say that this journey, the hunting, the exercise, had given him a little muscle.

"You know what? I'm going to cook something right now. You're getting double... N-no, _triple_!" Ashlyn spun around and jogged away. Roland was about to say it was all fine, that he didn't want her to waste her time with a more fulfilling meal today, but she'd already disappeared behind the snow and trees.

"Damn it, Ash..." He sighed, turning to Tris. Surprisingly, she had a grin on her face. For some reason it struck him as being rather _knowing_ , but he didn't know why that was. "I wanted to get going to Wren's house so I could train some more, but..."

"Don't you think it's a little early?" she asked. Roland had to admit her point was valid. As busy as Guardians often were, would Wren even be up at this time?

"Mmm..." Roland kneaded the ground with his paws before laying down. He rested his chin atop his paws, belly to the smooth rock, then raised a paw and gave Fluffy an idle, halfhearted attempt at a pet. In time, quiet spread across the dragons. He eventually felt the need to glance at Tris and he realised she still had that random grin sprawled across her face. "What are you looking like that for?"

"Oh, nothing," she said, voice dripping with peculiar innocence. "You two are just so... _cute_."

Roland frowned, muscles tightening. "What are you trying to imply?"

"You're oblivious, Roland." She chuckled to herself. Roland was beyond confused over what she spoke of. If it was what he thought, than he didn't think so. Ashlyn was kind, hilarious to talk to, cute, and he'd even go as far as to say attractive in his eyes, and he was sure she felt the same way about him (lopping off the cute and attractive part, of course), but she definitely didn't have those kinds of feelings for him. He couldn't imagine that at all.

Not at _all_. He wasn't worth that kind of attention.

"But anyway," the yellow dragoness continued, bending over and letting her jaw descend onto her paws like Roland, "how about you show me what you've learned? I would love to see your magic in action."

He wasn't so sure about that. Not because he was afraid of using all of his mana – he'd have spirit gems later on; he'd changed his mind about Wren's spirit gems being too powerful, only because he'd used that one before when his potenthalus had been topped off with mana – but for the reason that he might fail without the Guardian beside him.

Tris was waiting. Her features emitted an aura of pressure, one that scared him slightly. He didn't want to embarrass himself now that he'd told them he was capable of magic.

"You won't get anywhere looking like that." Somehow, she was reading exactly how he felt. Maybe she'd experienced something similar with her own magic. "I know you're scared because you're not with your teacher this time, but if you're ever going to use your magic outside, you'll have to be confident by yourself. Now's as good a time as any to start practising that."

Yet again, she raised a good point. Maybe... Maybe showing off a drop of magic wasn't hard. He could do that, right?

"Okay," he said. "I just need to focus."

Roland shut his eyes and found the flickering light he'd come to know. It wavered and bounced side-to-side. With barely a shred of focus, he was able to feel the radiating heat of mana within him, like using magic for the first time had uncorked his potenthalus. When he forced it this time, the quivering light didn't rush away in an attempt to keep his reaching claws at bay. Instead, it seemed... _happy_ to work with him, as though his new confidence had changed its mind.

It was already coming, the calming chill in his chest, then the stretch of his throat as the crystal formed. He bent his head back for a moment, in preparation to let it fly, then jerked forward and made a gesture like retching. A flash of amber light burst from his mouth, a keen crystal flying from his outstretched muzzle, sliding barely an inch from Fluffy's lowered, angular chin. It punctured the tree with a dense thunk.

Like before, his vision was tinted a contorting blue. It disappeared in moments again. Absentmindedly, he wondered why his eyes did that to him.

" _Wow_ ," Tris expressed her amazement. She leaped off the rock, spreading her creamy wingspan with an audible flap, and lighted next to the tree where the crystal had made its impact. It only just occurred to him then that his crystal bullet hadn't shattered into shrapnel upon impact and instead was fixed to the trunk. Perhaps he could loosely control how rigid the crystal was somehow. This was new information to give to Wren...

Roland jumped down, Fluffy on his tail, and trod over to analyse his handiwork. Tris bounced around the crystal in childlike wonder, studying every bit of its evaporating body and the particles of wood floating around the crystal, almost still. Fluffy gazed upon it with confusion and stumbled backwards as though the unfamiliar element made him uncomfortable.

"This is amazing!" she exclaimed. "It's just like Ashlyn's icicles, but look at the wood dust! It's barely even moving! You've slowed time down! I wonder if..."

She reached for the crystal with her paw. It seemed the crystal didn't discriminate against dragons, because as she got closer, her entire paw was slowed to a near grind. Tristana's eyes widened in fascination as she tried to pull herself back out. It took some time – it was like dragging a paw through a jar of honey. She jerked a little too hard and fell backwards onto her stomach, but she couldn't give any less of a shit.

"That is _so_ cool!" Tris leaped to her paws, scrutinising the crystal more until it finally disappeared. "It's got this field of magic around it. It slows down the time of everything in an area. It's weird to think about, but... I'm actually a few seconds older than my paw now."

Roland almost staggered, bemused by the thought of making one part of him older than the other. What would happen if he left his paws in the magic of his crystals for a long time? Would he grow up with tiny feet?

It was definitely an amusing theory when he pondered it. Not one he was willing to try, of course.

He had another thought, though. He'd touched the crystals when he'd released them at the first wyvern egg he'd seen and they hadn't slowed him down then. Maybe they didn't affect him, being the time dragon? That made sense, considering he hadn't felt slowed down at all when he'd released them from his maw. He'd had a crystal in his _throat_ and it hadn't had a single effect on him.

What made him immune to the effects, though?

"W-why are you all the way down there now?" Ashlyn called to them, leaning over the drop-off. She held a paper-wrapped package of something in her paw, the stuff he recognised as that jerky he'd swiped off the mole's counter in Midrun. Wasn't she going to cook?

"Roland was just showing me his magic!" Tris yelled back, already heading towards her. The trio of Roland, Fluffy, and Tris flew over the drop-off and landed next to the blue dragoness. "It was so cool. I'm older than my paw now."

"Uh... Sh-should I even ask?"

Roland smiled. "Nah. Why have you got the jerky? I thought you were gonna cook?"

"M-Myrtle's asleep. I didn't... d-didn't want to wake her up." She held the jerky towards him. "Sorry, Roland..."

He gladly accepted it. He unfolded the creased paper and shoved a piece of honey-glazed, smoked meat into his mouth. He savoured in the unyielding flavour for a while. "I really don't mind," he mumbled with his muzzle full. "Probably better you leave her asleep anyway."

"By the way, w-what are we going to do about her?" Ashlyn sat before them. Just the mere mention of Myrtle made her quiver. "A-are we going to wake her up? She's... She's very tired."

"You bought paper yesterday," Tris said, thinking to herself. "I feel like we should leave her here and write her a note for when she wakes up. She... W-well, she really needs the rest."

Roland and Ashlyn nodded gently. Tris lowered her voice to murmur.

"I mean, you've both seen how much the lack of gems is doing. I-I'm worried about her..."

"I've been worried about her for as long as I've known it was an addiction," Roland sadly explained. "It's really not good. She's really hurting right now, and I have no clue what to say."

Tris sighed soundlessly, her breath trembling slightly, like a leaf snared in the breeze. "That makes two of us. I've tried to talk to her about it before, but it's a touchy subject for her. It's... the only time I've seen her close to being upset. She didn't want to be like that in front of me."

"R-right now," Ashlyn began, "there's not much we... well, _you two_ can do. Sh-she won't talk about it and, if you try to ask her what's wrong, she's going to be upset. And I don't want to see her like that. She's already having a hard enough time with me around..."

"Well... There's not much we can do about _that_." Tris placed a comforting paw atop the blue dragoness' shoulder. "Don't worry, though. I'm sure she'll come around eventually."

"She just doesn't... see you the same way as us." Roland shrugged. There wasn't much more he could say on the topic than that. Like he'd told himself a million times before, he despised problems without solutions.

Ashlyn looked about to drop into a tangent about her awful actions and choices again, but she seemed to suppress that right before she let it out. She didn't think they needed to hear all that, probably. "Yeah... Oh well. Th-this isn't about me."

"I agree with leaving a note," Roland continued with the subject at paw. "Fluffy'll be here to keep her safe. I'm sure he would love having company through the day, too. _"_

Tris groaned as she stretched her tense ligaments, then made an effort to get up. _"_ That sounds good to me. She needs the rest."

"I'll scribble something down for her, then." Roland paced up the hill again, weaving between timber pillars. As he reached the top and ducked beneath the stout mouth of the hollow, he found Ashlyn's papers jutting out of her black satchel. He felt an instance of hesitation – searching through somebody's belongings was impolite, after all – but Ashlyn gave him a nod and waited in silence by the entrance with Tris.

He located a capped vial of ink inside the satchel's walls, jotted down a short note for Myrtle, then laid the slip of paper in front of her. Roland watched her, felt pity for the way she looked. Even though she finally appeared to be at peace, those dark, wrinkled eyes of hers scared him. She wasn't going to feel well when she awakened, that much he could tell.

Roland sighed, and after they leashed Fluffy to a stone pillar, he and his friends trod off towards Shimmervale again.

* * *

Three bangs on Wren's door and Roland could hear the heavy footfalls of the ice dragon inside approaching. The door came open as quick as wings, the Guardian standing over Roland. The red dragon had to admit he felt a bit meek in the presence of him sometimes. Wren didn't tower over him or possess a muscular build. It was just the thought of a Guardian, a soul oozing with magical potential, that made him feel like nothing in comparison.

And, to be totally honest, he probably _was_ nothing in comparison, even with his status as the time dragon.

That wasn't important now, though. Roland looked up, greeting Wren's smiling face with his own grin.

"Good day, Roland." Wren stepped to the side to allow Roland entrance. "How are you? Did you sleep well?"

"I'm fine, thanks. Slept... okay enough, I guess." He walked past Wren, glancing across the walls. Wren had since put up some decorations, picture frames with worn portraits of him and others Roland didn't recognise at a much younger age, a silver clock hanging where the hallway stretched into the T, and a desk just below that. It was still plain, but at least the entry had some life now. Seemed Wren thought he was going to be here a little longer than he'd once believed.

"You seem to be lacking some mana today," Wren said as they walked into the living room. The Guardian had gone about furnishing it as well. The cushion baskets were still sat across from each other in the centre of the room, but now a stringy rug lay upon the floor beneath them. The dangling bulb had been attached to the ceiling, too. Not much work had been put in, but it did make Wren's temporary house much more homely and much less intimidating. Roland didn't feel like he was in some kind of interrogation room anymore.

"I used a bit this morning to show Tris." Roland jumped into the basket again. He wasn't sure, but he felt like the Guardian had fluffed up the pillows for him. "She was interested in seeing it. I shot a crystal out of my mouth again – it was actually easier the second time – and the crystal didn't shatter on impact. It stuck into a tree and we figured out that the crystals slow time around them, not just on impact."

"Hmm... Interesting." Wren dug into the bag by his flank and reached for a notepad. He dipped a claw in a vial of ink and scribbled a summary of Roland's explanation down, humming the words as he did so. Then, he set the notepad aside to dry. "If practice results in more questions like these, please practice by yourself more. The quicker we learn, the quicker you can get your friend back. Speaking of learning more, I do have spirit gems so we _could_ , in theory, keep practising after you've run out of mana. I just... wouldn't recommend them while your potenthalus is topped up, of course."

Roland snorted at the memory. He still found replacing the water in the fountain with stomach fluid hilarious. Oh, the misery he must've caused the plumber fixing it. He felt overwhelming amounts of pity for him.

"But now," Wren began once more, rising from the cushions, "we will keep training. We've managed to get a basic mouth technique down, so how about we try focusing magic through the mind and body? It is a similar process. You just need to learn how to direct your magic elsewhere. Considering how far you've come in a mere few days, I expect this to go swimmingly."

"Where would I send the mana to?" the red dragon asked as he followed the ice Guardian to the prayer room. The rubble from the statuette had been swept up, but it hadn't been replaced yet. Wren eyed it in disappointment – they wouldn't have the blessings of the Ancestors this time. There was no way they would after Roland had destroyed their religious symbol.

"Well... _Everywhere_. You can send magic to any part of your body. Not that you should try to send it everywhere, mind you."

"What do you..." Roland's eyes widened in realisation. "Oh. Yeah. I think that would hurt."

"If you go as far as to even think about doing that, I will be... _very_ unimpressed, Roland."

"You don't have to lecture me!" Roland exclaimed defensively. "I... I don't think I wanna piss _crystals_."

Wren exhaled. His disappointment in this conversation was immeasurable. "Let's change the subject. I have an idea to get us started. I remembered the magic Spyro used to create a crystal around himself and freeze himself in time. I was wondering if we could do that, but on a much smaller scale to start with."

Roland frowned. This seemed far more like a reason to learn how to freeze Drevon inside a crystal than anything. And if that was the case, he was done with this entirely. "How about you tell me what you've seen in the pool of visions first? I'm here because I wanna get my friend back."

"Good point. I have seen more in the pool of visions since you've been away. That tub inside the bathroom is what I've been using. It's... less than perfect, but it works." Wren put a claw to his chin. "I know what it's supposed to look like now. You'll be able to manipulate the time of anything inside the crystal, revert it to the state you want. The purple dragon is corrupted, so if you're able to turn back the clock far enough, he'll be as good as new. The only problem is actually _doing_ that. That's why I want you to practice creating crystals, so we can learn how to accomplish that."

That... sounded feasible enough. Without knowledge of his powers, or even without finding out how the crystals shot from his maw worked, he'd find this ridiculous. But this time magic was new to him and to Wren. _Anything_ was possible.

The only problem was if Roland was powerful enough to be able to pull off something seemingly so strong. He'd exert all of his mana after a few measly crystals, not to mention pushing the clock back on something.

"Do you think I'll actually be able to do that?" Roland questioned. "I get tired after just a little bit of magic..."

"We all do at the start, Roland, but I think you'll find that the more you use your magic, the more efficient you'll become with it. It's already happened today, and it'll keep on happening." Wren gave an amiable smile. "It's just a matter of time before the seemingly impossible becomes possible. Just keep practising everyday."

Well, he'd gotten this far with Wren already. He could actually use magic because of the Guardian's guidance, and he was overwhelmingly grateful for that. Like falling back into one's arms, Roland was inclined to trust him on this.

"Anyhow..." Wren got up and groaned as he bent over and stretched out his old bones. His scales were noticeably cracked and dry when he did, typical of a dragon this ancient. "I suppose we should begin your training. I have an idea. It involves a little bit of my magic. You see..."

Wren's maw creaked open and from within came a fistful of his draconic ice, arcing through the air and landing squarely on the pillar in front of him.

"You see," Wren repeated, "my ice melts on its own rather quickly depending on how it's used. This piece of ice will melt away in a few moments..."

As he finished, the ice shrunk and shrunk until it was but a puddle of liquid, dribbling down the sides of the pillar.

"So... I'm going to try and freeze that inside of a crystal?" Roland asked.

"Exactly that. I can keep a hold on my magic and stop it from melting. Once you form a crystal around it, I will let go and we'll see if it melts. Does that sound good?"

Roland couldn't think of a better suggestion. That sounded like a perfect start to him. It was small and somebody as weak as himself could pull it off.

"First, you must learn how to direct your magic elsewhere, however. Let's try your front leg. Summon your magic, but instead of letting it travel the path to your mouth, redirect it with your mind by focusing on your paw."

"Got it." Roland shut his eyes tight. The mere desire to summon magic brought with it the flicker of light in his mind. He focused on what he needed to do, to first reach for the magic in the depths of his potenthalus.

That was the easy part. With the warming sensation he'd become accustomed to, a bellyful of his mana, he brought it forth. It travelled the inner lines to his gut and tried to rise into his throat once more. He didn't allow it. He thought hard of his front paw, imagined firing a crystal from the pad of his paw.

It wasn't nearly as difficult as it should've been. It came naturally, journeying the veins as if they were an elaborate highway. The chill of frozen time streamed through his paw. He couldn't keep his tight muscle still; his paw quivered. He felt it there, mana at the end of his leg, hovering around the tips of his claws.

"Push forward and release it, Roland. Let your muscle relax."

Roland raised his leg, brought it towards his body, then threw his leg forward with force he didn't even know he had. There was a _crack_ , like a sheet of glass snapping in two, and through closed eyelids he saw yet another burst of orange light.

His eyes shot open, forced wide by the stabbing wave of agony in his paw. He gasped in surprise, lost his balance, and shoved his paining foot right back into the floor again. Shards of crystal dug into the pad of his paw like squeezing claws, and with a cry of shock, he tripped onto his stomach.

"Oh my..." Wren rushed to the red dragon's side after snapping out of his bewilderment. A warmth trickled down Roland's paw, the width of his foot pulsing. He brought it in close, trying to suppress the pain and the tears his eyes summoned. He breathed hard through clenched fangs. "Are you alright, Roland?"

"N-no!" Roland yelled back, shaking as he brought his paw forward. He managed a glance at it through squinted eyes. His paw was covered in tiny fragments of his crystal, like evaporating glass, his red paw dripping with a deeper crimson. He winced and drew it closer towards himself. "F-fuck... Ow..."

"Hang on," Wren said, sprinting off into a different room. Roland waited, watching the shards disappear and his foot begin to bleed more copiously, now that it wasn't impaled by splintered crystal.

What had he done? Had he forced it too hard?

He didn't much care as it throbbed again. Wren came running inside later, red gemstones and bandages clasped between his toes.

Wren placed the spirit gem inside Roland's other paw and compressed it for him. Roland didn't have to wait long for the crushed particles to do their work. His suffering numbed and the blood dried against his foot.

He breathed deep, calming breaths when the magic stopped churning through his leg. He opened his tearful eyes and rubbed his other leg across them, then looked to the ice dragon sitting before him.

"Are you alright now?" Wren questioned. "Does it still hurt?"

Roland placed his injured foot upon the ground again, then immediately retracted it at the ache he felt. "Y-yeah, but... I think it's gonna hurt to walk on..."

"What even happened?" Wren got up, concerned eyes glued to the young drake. "Did we... We forced it too hard, didn't we? It's just like ice."

"I-I guess? I wouldn't know," Roland stuttered as he got to his feet. He was careful not to place his right paw on the ground, for fear of the agony resurfacing. "Does ice magic shatter in your paws?"

"With too much force, yes." Wren bowed his head. "I just thought that because you needed to force your magic out, this might work the same way, but I was... I was dead wrong. And now you're injured because of me."

"Y-you beat yourself up a lot." The red dragon winced as he tried to find a comfortable position for his paw. "You couldn't have known what would happen. Your logic makes sense to me..."

Wren lowered his head, in scrutiny of the floor. Roland breathed a shaky sigh.

"It just doesn't make sense to my _mana_. My magic's an idiot and doesn't like me."

"I'm... glad you can make light of the equivalent of stepping in glass, Roland." Wren managed a slight chuckle. Roland returned it as best he could whilst trying to hide his pain.

"Yeah... Don't worry about it, Wren. I'll try something different next time. It's good to know that I can use my magic through my paws at least."

"Yes, you are quite right. You've picked up using magic through your leg shockingly fast, Roland." Wren took a step towards the door, then waved Roland over. "We should get that cleaned up, however. I don't believe we'll need the bandages, but it would be best if we washed the blood away."

Roland gave a nod and followed the blue dragon. Despite having his paw needled with crystal shards, he was happy to be learning more about his magic.

The more he practised, the closer and closer he came to reaching the point of saving his best friend. According to Wren, he was learning swiftly, too.

He'd be going after Drevon soon...

* * *

As the skies turned a golden-brown, the sun, like glimmering topaz, settling in the west, he and the others had met up in the markets and flown back. Roland brushed foliage away and paced up the frozen hillside, where the fanged maw of the hollow lay. He let the girls through first before stepping inside himself.

Fluffy greeted Roland with mild, unenthusiastic whimper. The dreadwing had a long stare at the back of the cave, where the green dragoness lay facing the wall. She used her roll of bedding as a pillow and hummed softly to herself, a tune he'd recognise anywhere, that old navy song. He realised it'd been a while since he'd listened to her sing anything. Somehow, she didn't notice a single one of them enter.

Roland balled his left paw into a fist, clenched his toes tight. Wren's teachings had let Myrtle's condition slip his mind. He felt awful for forgetting.

"Hey," Roland said eventually, seeing as nobody else had. Myrtle's singing stopped abruptly. It took her a few moments to finally want to roll around to face them all. She didn't bother getting up.

Those bloodshot eyes scared him.

"Hi," she replied, her mouth barely moving. She stared upon them with half-open eyes and didn't offer a smile. She didn't even look happy to see Tris, like she usually did.

"How's your day been?" Roland asked. "I assume you read the note."

"Fine. And yes."

"How's Fluffy?"

"Good."

Roland sat before the dreadwing. Fluffy cuddled up to him immediately, probably expecting a belly rub, but Roland was too busy with Myrtle to give him that. He hesitated a moment before he spoke his next words.

"You alright?"

"Yep."

Those one-word answers didn't fill him with confidence.

Tris usually had something to say to her. On the flight back, she'd seemed excited to tell Myrtle about that 'secret project' they'd both been working on, but after one look at her, all of that had vanished and left no trace.

Ashlyn just stayed as quiet as she always had around her. The amount of concern painted on her face was obvious to Roland, however. She knew there was no way Myrtle was okay right now. Shocking to Roland, though, she seemed to care what was happening to her despite everything. She cared for somebody that hated her guts.

"Have you eaten anything today?" Roland spoke up again. Myrtle didn't want to keep a conversation going this time around, apparently. Usually, she was the one to start their discussions.

"Nope."

"Uh... Do you want anything?"

"Don't care."

Roland hated these answers. This wasn't like her at all. He didn't know how long he could take watching her act like this.

"I... did more on our project today," Tris said, clearly hoping for something resembling interest. Myrtle's abyssal gaze didn't reward her with what she expected.

"Cool."

Tris parted her maw, about to tell her what she'd done in loose terms as to not give it away to Roland, but she paused and shut her mouth.

"Myrtle..." Roland sighed. He wasn't totally sure what to say after that, but the earth dragoness got the idea either way. She exhaled, her shaking breath a resounding echo to Roland.

"I just... I just wanna rest, guys."

'But you can't' was what Roland wished to say. He pushed his head into the dreadwing's stomach, looked up into his glowing eyes, then leaned further into him.

"Is there anything we can do, Myrtle?" Roland asked. It was probably the best thing he could ask. "Anything to make you comfortable?"

"No," was her snappy reply. "There ain't. Don't ask."

"Are you sure?" Tris agreed with Roland's line of logic. "Do you want my bedroll? Do you want me to go and catch some–"

" _No_."

Tris seemed hurt by those two letters.

Myrtle stared into the floor for a while. Eventually, with another soundless sigh, she rolled back over and didn't give her gaze again. She could subdue her exhaustion and stress no longer. Her happiness withered like laceleaf, dead and rotten.

"Th-they're... They're just worried about you. They're trying to care for you."

Roland was surprised to hear Ashlyn. Somehow, she'd gathered the courage to speak in this moment, Myrtle's worst of times.

Myrtle turned over again, as though surprised to hear her, like she'd forgotten she was even there. She gaped, then her brow creased into a frown and her sharp eyes narrowed into a glare.

"Why do you fuckin' care?"

Roland recoiled at the rising well of anger within her. Ashlyn was stiff, probably feeling as though she shouldn't have spoken at all. There was silence for a time that filled Roland with a sense of foreboding, of rage to come.

The blue dragoness tore down all expectations and garnered the bravery to speak once more. "B-because you're making everyone worry about you. We just... j-just want to help."

" _You_ ," Myrtle said as she rose to her feet, "wanna help _me_?"

Ashlyn retreated into her crevice. "Y-yes..."

"How the _fuck_ could you help me?" Myrtle asked, tone as keen as a blade newly forged. "How could you help me, let alone _anyone_?"

"Myrtle..." Roland's attempt to keep her from doing anything rash went ignored. Tris had this look in her eyes, one of fear and panic.

"I..." Ashlyn searched everything for answers – the floor, the roof, the stalagmites sticking like teeth out of the ground – but couldn't find anything.

"Do you think you're going to help us at all?" Myrtle's voice went quiet. The edge in it, though... It was unlike anything Roland had ever heard from her.

"I... I-I think so," Ashlyn said as her tone softened, too. Hers shook with a new fear, like she knew she'd roped herself into something bad.

Apparently, her answer was the wrong one. Myrtle closed her eyes, huffed, and snorted sharply. She took a single step towards the blue dragoness, then clenched her paw, tried to squeeze her vexation right out.

"How?" Myrtle demanded. " _Why_ are you here?"

Ashlyn quivered with her breaths now. Whatever she felt was the wrong thing to Myrtle. There was nothing she could do now to stop the rising torrent of anger. "I... want to help Roland. I-I want to get Drevon back, too. After e-everything I did, I should focus–"

"After everything you did, you should focus on _staying away_!" Myrtle yelled. Roland wriggled out of Fluffy's grip; he wasn't going to let this keep on going. It had to be stopped. He didn't care if he said the wrong thing now. "How the fuck are you going to help Drevon!? As soon as he sees you, he's just gonna get fuckin' mad again and it'll be all your fault because you killed his sister!"

Roland had to admit he'd barely considered that fact. But that wasn't the point. He'd always had a better idea in mind.

"Myrtle, c'mon–" He reached out with a paw, but Myrtle ignored the fact he was even there, and stormed towards Ashlyn with a hateful glare. Ashlyn pushed her flank into the wall, as if that was an escape from her aggressor.

Tris stood up, her mouth open, but the words only hovered around her tongue. Fluffy was up, too, and seemed terrified of what was happening.

"What are you gonna do?!" Myrtle screamed at a shuddering Ashlyn. Her fears were being realised at this very second. Roland started walking forward, heart hammering in his chest. "What are you gonna do other than make _everything_ harder?! Are you that fuckin' selfish?! Do you really feel like you need to prove yourself by puttin' us through more hell than we're already goin' through?!"

Ashlyn didn't say a thing in response, only stopped and stared at the green dragoness in terror. Roland got closer, fear and anger bubbling inside himself.

"Myr–" His voice was only lost to Myrtle's screaming.

"The best thing you can do to help us is FUCK OFF!" Myrtle slammed a fist into the ground as she moved within inches of Ashlyn. She didn't care she'd just scraped her scales off, made her paw bleed. "Just _fuck off_ , Ashlyn!"

"Myrtle!" Roland shouted. "Lay off! She's not going anywhere!"

Myrtle growled and spun around to face him. She drew a paw back and planted her fist into his eye. Tris gasped, Fluffy screamed out, and Roland fell sideways, knocking his skull on the rocks. He clutched his head in agony, eyes watering and face throbbing. Fluffy shot over Roland and landed between him and Myrtle.

Roland caught a glance of Fluffy's bared fangs in his swimming vision, heard him snarling at the green dragoness. Myrtle stopped where she was, the rage turning to surprise, then to horror. Roland grabbed the floor and pushed himself up again. Tears coursed down his cheeks as he clutched the place she'd hit him. He couldn't see a thing out of his eye. He didn't dare open it.

He turned to face Myrtle. Seconds after peering into each other, she rushed off, disappearing from the cave. Fluffy watched her leave – he even seemed glad she had – then looked back at his master and whimpered in panic. Roland suppressed the sob trying to escape his throat and fell to his knees again, unable to bear standing up.

When he finally managed to look up again with his other eye, he saw Ashlyn standing in the corner, shivering and trying to keep herself from crying, and Tris in the other, her maw agape and eyes just as damp.

Roland found the strength to lift himself up again and leaned upon his monstrous companion for support. He stared out the mouth of the cave, searching for Myrtle, but she'd vanished into the tangle of snow and bark, nowhere to be found. He reached for Fluffy's coat and wiped his good eye off on the hair, then sat upon his haunches, breathing through clenched teeth.

Roland felt like he should've seen this coming. With the stress over being with someone she hated and the trouble she was having with spirit gems becoming more apparent, he should've known she would get mad like this. He should've done something to stop it, anything he could've to keep her from snapping. But now she was lost to the forest.

Quiet as death, Roland stared into the woods, wondering what he could've done.


	34. Mending

Mending

Half an hour had passed since Myrtle had snapped under the pressure of warring emotions. Roland was hopeful that she would've come back by now, but his optimism only toyed with him. He was beginning to worry. She probably needed the time to herself. He just hated not having her here.

He almost wanted to feel mad at her and forget she even existed; why in the Realms would she have done that to him? He knew it was a thoughtless action, though, almost instinctive. He'd seen that look in her eyes when she'd done it, the glint of tears, and knew she'd terrified _herself_ , maybe even more than him. There was no way she would've intentionally done that to him. She'd gotten so mad she'd taken it out on him.

Where was she?

He really hoped she was okay. Would he have to go after her? It was getting late...

Did she know he wouldn't be mad at her, or did she think she'd lost a friend in that split second of misjudgement? Did she want to come back at all?

She still believed she had friends, right? That they didn't hate her for what she'd done? That they fully understood her plight?

He certainly hoped so, but reality was often a cunning, brutal thing.

"How's the eye?" the low voice of Tris came forth. His right eye stung; it was black, as dark as Myrtle's fatigued gaze, and shot with strings of red. He didn't dare open it for fear of the pain worsening. Thankfully, the sensation had been numbed by Tristana's tireless toil to keep him comfortable; she'd gathered water from the frozen lake outside in a thin waterskin for him to place against his injury, something Roland hadn't known they had, and had even managed to find a tiny deposit of spirit gems in the woods. Why she'd gone to that much effort was beyond him.

Maybe she was trying to distract herself.

"It's... better," Roland answered with a shrug. Fluffy, who lay against the wall and kept Roland snug in his wingspan, whimpered over his master's condition. Roland managed a tiny smile at that noise, though it was momentary.

His gaze fell upon the blue dragoness, who, apart from quivering in shock and fear, hadn't moved a muscle since the argument. She'd buried herself deep into her crevice. Roland could only see her toes jutting out from behind the wall.

"Is she okay?" he whispered.

Tris looked over at her and seemed to ponder the same question. She sighed, sitting down before the red dragon. "I don't know. Are you?"

"Yeah. Just a bit shaken up." He leaned his head against Fluffy's wing. "I... I didn't think it would go this far. I feel like I should've expected it. I should've done something to help her earlier, rather than sitting around and worrying about saying something that'd make her mad..."

"Myrtle doesn't like being worried about. I-in fact, it was one of the things she was stressed over. Anything we could've done would've just made it worse..."

Tris prodded at their fire with the stick in her paw. She splayed herself across the stone floor, then pushed a foot into her cheek.

"What were we supposed to do?" she said, more to herself than Roland. "There's nothing reasonable we could've done in the time we have. I'm not qualified to deal with something like this and it's not like we have time to get help for her. I don't think she'd agree to that anyway..."

"The best we can do is be there for her," Roland replied. "She does need to learn to let us care for her, though. It makes everyone feel awful when we can't help, which is the opposite of what she wants."

Tris gave a quick nod, but stopped talking. Roland waited a few quiet moments before shifting his attention to the blue dragoness. He nudged Fluffy's wing to make him let go. The dreadwing was hesitant at first, but he wouldn't disobey the orders of his chosen master. Roland dropped the freezing waterskin beside his fluffy companion and limped forward.

"I'm gonna check on Ash," he muttered as he walked past Tris. She bowed her head again, staying behind like she thought two people might overwhelm the fragile dragoness. She continued to prod at the flames with her stick.

He popped his head into Ashlyn's incline and tried his best to put on a smile for her. She was curled into a ball with her back against the wall, muzzle in her paws. Roland's grin withered away at the sight of her.

She sniffled as she looked up, blue eyes twinkling in the firelight. She'd stopped crying since the fight, but her eyes were still as damp as they'd been before. Her muzzle quivered, as though trying to produce sound, but she couldn't bring herself to let it out.

"Hey," he greeted. "You okay back there?"

She gave only a nod. Roland tilted his head, unable to trust her response. She definitely didn't _look_ okay.

"Do you need anything?" Roland asked. Her response was nothing more than a shake of her skull. He sighed, looking back at the fire, before a new idea surged forth. "Do you want some company, then?"

She pondered that one for a few moments. Roland was glad to see her eventually nod, though.

"Why don't you come and sit around the fire with us? It's a bit chilly back here. Maybe even for an ice dragon like you."

Ashlyn looked out from around the corner and Roland. Tris stopped poking the fire for a moment to raise her head and smile cordially. Ashlyn parted her mouth, studied the floor, then glanced back up at Roland. "...Okay."

He stood and reached for her with a paw. She took it with her own and pulled herself up. Roland led the way to the fire and sat upon his bedroll in front of Fluffy. He patted the spot beside him, gesturing Ashlyn over. She set herself down next to him.

Fluffy spread his wings and embraced them both in a tight, loving snuggle. Roland couldn't stifle the laugh when he saw the look on Ashlyn's face. Pressed into dreadwing hair and almost into Roland, she totally froze up, eyes wide as saucers.

Roland was still chuckling by the time he'd been dropped. Ashlyn was able to find amusement in it, too, but she lost that faint glimmer of a smirk too quickly. Roland sighed as he calmed. Fluffy kept him nice and close, probably so he could ensure the red dragon was protected.

Ashlyn pushed her toes together and opened her mouth to let out a breath. She was fixated on the blaze, like she could see images dancing within. Roland wriggled a bit, to get out of the tight, affectionate grip of his dreadwing. He slowly flared a wing towards Ashlyn, about to grab her attention with a pat on the back, but he wasn't sure what to say. He drew it back, feeling less than comfortable.

That look in her eyes frightened him. What was going through her mind right now?

Myrtle's words had slashed deep and the scars were getting worse. Roland didn't share the earth dragoness' belief. He knew there would be conflict – it was a scary thought, that Drevon could just change back – but Roland wanted to try and resolve that problem. He couldn't leave it unattended to.

"I don't want you to listen to what Myrtle said," Roland blurted out before the everlasting quiet consumed the hollow. Ashlyn looked up, surprised to hear his voice again. "She's... angry and not all that optimistic. I'll need to talk to her, too."

"B-but she's right..." Ashlyn murmured. "As soon as he sees me, he'll–"

Roland shook his head. "I'm gonna talk to Drevon once we have him back. We're gonna need to fix everything between you two. He needs to know the truth and I want you to be there to explain things. And yeah, he wouldn't trust you and he'd probably get angry – Myrtle's right about that much. But _I'm_ going to be there. I'm pretty sure he'll be willing to listen if I'm there, too."

"You... Y-you think so?" Ashlyn frowned. Seemed like she hadn't been expecting to hear such a counterargument.

Tris shrugged. "I mean, yeah. This was what I suspected Roland's plan was."

Ashlyn's head fell deeper. She closed her eyelids, clenched them together hard, and breathed a sharp breath through her nostrils. A trickle of liquid trailed down her cheek. "Y-you don't think I'm... I-I'm selfish? For putting you through more danger, j-just to prove myself?"

"No. I think you're doing the right thing," Roland told her, shuffling a little closer to her. She lifted her head to meet his eyes. "I want you here, Ash. Don't doubt that..."

"Th-that's... It's not the _problem_." Ashlyn lowered her face again. Tris paced around the fire to be closer to her. The more comfort they could give her, the better. "I-if I wasn't here, then Drevon wouldn't have to worry at all about me. You could just tell him I'm dead and... and then th-that'd be the end of that problem. He could rest easy thinking I'm gone. I'm just making everything harder..."

"Ashlyn..." Tris sat before her.

"M-maybe if I _was_ dead..."

"Stop that," Roland snapped, loathing the sound of those words. There was no comment he hated more than anything like _that._ He wasn't going to sit here and listen to her challenge her existence. "Don't think like that, Ash."

"W-why–"

"Don't go there," Tris agreed. "Don't even begin to consider that. It's not worth it. Trust me..."

Ashlyn stopped and exchanged glances with them both. She wiped a leg over teary eyes. "S-sorry. You're both right... B-but I _am_ just going to make things harder. M-Myrtle's not wrong about that."

"I'm already aware of that much," Roland said. "If I wasn't willing to help you fix things with Drevon, I wouldn't, but you're my _friend_ , Ashlyn. I'm doing it so he can learn the truth and so you can be happy as well. I don't care if it's harder."

Ashlyn unlatched her maw again, but she stopped herself from speaking altogether. Originally leaning forward, she fell back a little, shut her mouth, and fell silent.

Roland reached out with a comforting wing and folded it around her back in a loose embrace. Attention ensnared by his touch, Ashlyn's head shot up and her eyes went wide. Roland felt a warm smile curl his muzzle.

"I want you here, Ash." He watched as her face fell again, but the sorrow had been replaced by her own joy. "I mean... who'd save me if you weren't here? I'd die a thousand times over if I didn't have you."

Ashlyn couldn't suppress that giggle, no matter how hard she tried. Roland heard Tris laugh a little in the background.

"O-okay, you've convinced me," Ashlyn said, eyes reaching for his. "Thanks, Roland. You're the best."

"Nah." He let go of her and stood up. She seemed oddly disappointed when he did, but he chose to ignore that. Maybe it was just him not agreeing with her on her erroneous statement.

He peered outside. Winter breathed its chill into the hollow; the flame wavered and Roland quivered in response. Clouded skies snagged the moonlight before it could break through, creating an everlasting black like mist that obscured all but the vague outline of the nearest quavering trees. For once, it stopped snowing, substituted by hail buffeting the trees and stones.

Roland waited a few moments before remembering the reason he was staring out there in the first place. The weather was getting nasty and Myrtle _still_ wasn't back yet. He would've already gone out to get to her, but he had another friend to deal with before he could.

His worry was running high now, though. He couldn't keep waiting for her to return. He wasn't sure if she even would at this point.

Tris saw him staring and stood up to join him. She paced up beside him, wearing her fright on her face as she realised how long Myrtle had been missing for. "Are you going after Myrtle now? Shouldn't you wait out the storm first?"

"I'm... too worried about her," he said. "I don't care if there's a hailstorm. I'll stick to the cover the rocks and trees provide."

Tris seemed hesitant, but eventually nodded. It wasn't like she wanted Myrtle out there by herself, either. "Do you... want me to come with you?"

Roland looked back at the blue dragoness, who studied her paws, smile still present on her face. He felt a foreboding hunch of something to come, twinge-like paranoia. He was sure Ashlyn was convinced, that she hadn't been lying about that, but he really did just want to make sure. He had more than enough on his platter tonight without having to go searching for Ashlyn, too.

"Could you stay with her?" Roland whispered. Tris understood, and after staring through the maw of the cave a few seconds more, she joined Ashlyn by her side. Roland watched Tris begin another conversation, the obvious topic being magic, to get Ashlyn's mind onto something productive. Roland didn't listen well or for long; something about improving the efficiency of Ashlyn's ice stream, but that was all he made out.

He had more important matters to focus on. With a wave to them both – Ashlyn could comprehend what was happening pretty well without the need for an explanation – and after commanding Fluffy to sit still, he leaped into the darkness.

* * *

 _Cold_. So _cold_.

Why hadn't Myrtle come back yet? How was she dealing with the chill and the hail? Hopefully she'd found somewhere to keep warm and safe.

Frozen pellets needled his scales. Glacial air whipped around his face and stung his bruised eye. Only fifteen minutes into searching and the storm had already picked up, to the point it was _painful_. He tried to hide beneath the cover of the trees, but even the dense tangle of branches and leaves couldn't shield him from the whirling, biting wind.

He didn't heed it much, though. There were more important things at stake than his own comfort. He had a friend out there, somewhere in the cold, all alone. He'd power through the storm to find her.

He scoured the ground for her tracks. It hadn't been so long since she'd run off, but they were already fading into the snow. He followed them as best as he could, mostly sticking to trees where the snow and hail had shielded the tracks, but even with perception like his, it was excruciatingly difficult.

It only just occurred to him now that she might still be running, and that he might've left her to do that for almost an hour now. His heart lurched at that thought. Had his priorities been misplaced?

"It... It doesn't matter," he said to himself. "I'm still going after her anyway."

And he wasn't going to stop until he found her again. He _needed_ Myrtle. She was just about all he had left from the guild of thieves. If he'd lost her, too...

He didn't want to think about it. There was no way he would lose her. He'd get to her.

As he went on, though, the tracks started to disappear, buried beneath layers of bleached earth. Five minutes more and he could no longer see them at all. He stood still, scanning the trees and the ground for any snapped twigs poking through the snow. His efforts were in vain.

He breathed hard, dashing beneath a tree to find refuge from the storm while he searched.

"Myrtle!" he shouted. He could barely hear his own voice over the cacophony of hail. There was no way she'd heard that. " _Myrtle_! Where are you!?"

Even with all the might of his lungs she wouldn't hear him. Roland spluttered, throat aching.

He didn't have a clear direction anymore. She could've gone _anywhere_. He didn't want to think she'd taken off. This was the first time he hoped the crystallisation was keeping her grounded. If not and she'd taken off into the storm, then... Would she really do that, though? That was practically suicide. No dragon could fly through this. They'd be knocked down and sent hurtling towards the earth.

His heart slammed against his rib cage, breath coming in ragged gasps. His adrenaline was dying, as was his hope. He didn't want to have to choose a direction and sprint in it, in a desperate attempt to locate her, but he didn't have much of a choice. The last tracks she'd made were heading in the direction he was already going in, towards the south, so it was probably a good idea to move that way.

Roland kept running. When he turned his head forwards, he noticed a deep ditch inches from his front paws. He came to an abrupt halt, teetering over the edge of the hole for a moment, catching an eyeful of the thick, thorny shrubs lying within, like gnashing fangs. He fell backwards with his breath held, and thanked his luck for not pushing him in. He almost disregarded the thorns, but curiosity drove him to get a better look at them.

They were... bloody, like someone had fallen in them. His attention shifted immediately when he noticed the satchel they had locked between their teeth, however. He knew that old, worn, leathery thing belonged to Myrtle.

A pit grew in his stomach when he realised Myrtle had hurt herself in them, but his heart raced at a sign of her. The snow ahead was flecked with red. It looked fresh, like she'd been here recently. Roland leaped over the bushes to the other side, determination burning once again.

As he went on, the snow became thicker, the trees sparser. The storm was worse to be in, but the deeper snow was a godsend. Myrtle's tracks were more obvious and, from the looks of things, much newer than before. There was a hole pressed into the snow close to one of the trees, flakes of dry red where she'd bled. She'd probably stopped there when she didn't feel like running anymore, but when the storm came, she'd gone elsewhere to find shelter.

He headed forwards, towards the steep slope the tracks led to. Through the hail and the darkness, he noticed a wall jutting out of the hill. There was a crevice there, tight and angry like a fresh scar. He stopped before it, noting the tracks came to a sudden halt in marks like Myrtle had skidded across the ground and rushed into the narrow hole. There wasn't much room for a body, but with his slim frame, he could squeeze through no sweat.

He breathed a low, relieved sigh through his runny nostrils. His prayers had been answered.

Roland pushed himself inside, ducking his head and horns low, and he felt around the darkness for the walls and pulled himself further, wasting not a moment to get to Myrtle. The coiling path widened as he went on. There was a light just around the corner, the amber glow of a flickering blaze. Like a glow bug attracted to the flame, he desperately charged forward, drifting into a larger cavern.

The floor and ceiling were circled with stalagmites, like the fanged gullet of a dreadwing. A tiny fire danced in the centre, casting black, animated monsters along the rocks, including that of a form laying by the fire, face tucked into her paws, tail curled around her body. Her legs were scratched and smeared with dried crimson, and she trembled and shook with quiet sobs.

She hadn't noticed him yet. He silently glided along the floor and bent over before her. He put a paw up, hesitated for a slight moment, thinking about how to introduce himself, then placed his foot upon her scaly hide.

"Hey."

Frightened, Myrtle recoiled, her head jerking towards him. When she noticed it was him, though, that shock in her glistening eyes disappeared, replaced by confusion, then astonishment.

"R-Roland..." she said as she rose to her hind paws, voice quivering as though nipped by the cold. "You... Y-you..."

He sat before her. "Yeah, I'm here. Are you alright?"

Myrtle froze. She couldn't comprehend that he was here after what she'd done, that much Roland knew. It was almost like she didn't believe he was even real.

Tears spilled down her cheeks. "Y-you... a-actually came?"

"Of course I went after you, Myrtle. You're my friend."

That last word shattered the fragile barrier she'd only just constructed. She turned her head away, struggled to push back the sob stuck in her throat. She didn't last a second longer before the wall of stoicism shielding her heart crumbled into a million fragments.

"Hey..." Roland shuffled closer and wrapped his paws around her in an embrace. "It's okay, Myrtle... It's okay. I'm here."

"N-no..." The earth dragoness quaked as she hugged him back, her neck falling upon his shoulder. Tears like dew slipped from her eyes and dribbled down Roland's back. "I-I'm sorry, Roland. I'm _so_ sorry..."

"Don't be." He shut his eyes and tightened his grip around her. "I know you didn't mean to. I don't care what you did. I'm just glad you're okay..."

"W-why?" she said, tremulous tone barely a whisper. "Why did you come for me? I-I... I hurt you. You should be angry at me..."

"Like I said..." he began once more, feeling his own tears brew like a second storm. Something about her sorrow was infectious. "You're my _friend_. I know you, like... hit me and all that, but I know you wouldn't ever do that to me on purpose. I don't hate you, Myrtle. Please don't think I do..."

"You _should_ ," she coughed, choking on her sob. "I-I don't fuckin' deserve this. I-I'm just... just a fuckin' problem."

"Don't start that." Roland pulled away and set his paws upon her shoulders, staring into her emerald gaze. She averted it, muzzle quivering, words dying on the tip of her tongue. "I don't hate you and I don't think you're a... a f-fucking _problem_ of all things. Don't say that about yourself."

Myrtle wasn't so easily persuaded. Her eyes thinned into a hateful glare, one directed at herself. "Why not? I-it's true."

"Look, I'm not gonna sit here and listen to you criticise yourself." Roland was already fed up with her arguing. She wanted him to hate her more than anything. She desired justification for the way she felt. He wasn't going to satisfy her. "You just made a mistake, okay? I know you've heard it a million times, but we all make them. I'm your friend and I forgive you. Y-you need to understand that."

"W-what I just did was terrible!" she exclaimed as she shook his paws off her shoulders. "I _really_ hurt you! How can you call me a fucking FRIEND after that!?"

"Because I know how you feel!" he yelled back, the very first of his tears coursing down his cheek. "I can see where you're coming from and forgive you! That's what friends do, Myrtle!"

Myrtle broke into another sob. Her breath shook uncontrollably. She lowered her face and clenched her eyes shut.

"Please just stop..." Roland sighed after wiping a paw across his face. He placed it on her shoulder again. Her head rose; her eyes cracked open but she couldn't meet his. "I forgive you, alright? Hitting me doesn't matter. Things have been hard for you and I understand how you feel. _Nobody_ hates you, Myrtle."

"I thought Tris would," she muttered lowly. "I... I-I scared her, Roland. I hurt you, I made Fluffy mad, a-and now she hates me..."

"She's _worried_ about you," the red dragon explained. "She doesn't hate you, Myrtle. She knows how you feel, too. In fact... as soon as we get back, she's probably gonna give you a massive hug and ask if you're okay ten times over."

He was hoping for a chuckle or smile or something along those lines, but she didn't give him anything of the sort. Instead, she sighed, totally relieved to hear those words.

Myrtle peered down at him, then away again. Roland sat there in silence, awaiting her next move, scanning her body language. She fidgeted a bit, then her gaze met his once more.

"I'm... I'm sorry about all this," she said. "I shouldn't have run off. Sh-shouldn't have gotten mad..."

Roland reached for her shoulder again, a weak smile growing. "Nah, don't worry about it. I–"

This time, she came forward, winding her front legs around his neck, balancing herself atop him. Roland was surprised to receive yet another embrace, but he wasn't going to say no. Even if she was a bit heavy...

"Even after all these weeks... you're still fuckin' bony."

"It's my defining character trait," he said with a laugh. "I mean... other than stinking, of course."

"But you don't really anymore." She pulled away, a smile finally pulling at her mouth. "You actually smell kinda decent. Girls'd love ya."

"Very funny." He chuckled.

Myrtle gave him her signature punch in the shoulder. It wasn't nearly as hard as it usually was, though he wasn't going to complain about that.

"So... where is Tris now?" Myrtle asked. "If she was worried about me, wouldn't she have come to find me, too?"

"She's with Ash." Roland expected her to look hurt over that, like she would've thought Tris would prioritise her over the blue dragoness, but she seemed to understand why she wasn't here. "She was feeling a bit... messed up over this whole situation as well. She felt the same way as you did, like she was just a problem. I made Tris stay to make sure she was okay after I talked to her. Speaking of that, though, I should probably tell you why I want Ashlyn to come–"

"No." She shook her head. "You don't have to explain. I know why you want her with us. And... I agree with you. It's better in the long run if Drevon knows the truth. If we lied to him and he found out, then... I don't wanna think about that."

Roland exhaled in reassurance. That made things a whole lot easier for him. Myrtle still had a point, but Roland felt he could talk Drevon out of anything rash once they had him back. And if Drevon didn't listen and the curse tried to take him over once more, Roland had the power of time to snap him out of it again. Roland thought his plan was nigh flawless in concept. It was rare he felt that way about something he'd come up with, but this time he was sure his plans would unfold the way he wanted them to.

"Ugh... I'm just glad I didn't lose everything again, Roland..."

Roland frowned; that last word struck him as odd. "Again?"

Myrtle looked to the ceiling, as if to debate whether it was worth telling him or not. When her eyes descended again, she exhaled, the quiver in her breath returning for but a moment. "This... is kinda how I got kicked outta home."

Roland's expression twisted into intrigue. Her past life had been a mystery to him for as long as he could remember being with her. "If you wanna talk about it, I'm all ears."

She nodded. "Back when I was younger, I met a guy called Corwin, which you already know. We were great friends, hung out all the time. He was there for me when nobody else was. Well... other than my mum, of course. She was good. Not my sister, though."

"Wait..." Roland almost reeled backward. "You had a sister!?"

"Yup." The glint of a smile hovered around her mouth. It vanished as quickly as it appeared. "Twin, actually. I hated everything about her, though. She was just a bitch. She always made sure to let me know that Mum cared more about her because she was smarter than me or somethin'. Horrible person. I wouldn't wish death upon anybody, but I'm glad she got what was coming to her..."

"What happened?" He cocked his head.

"She died in a construction accident with my fuck-knuckle of a father. That's... kinda when everything went downhill, though. My mum started drinkin' and changed. It got a bit toxic in that house. Wasn't nice to live in. I started hangin' out with Cor more, and one day we started usin' gems together. It was relaxing. That was obviously a mistake."

"So... how'd you get kicked out?" Roland asked. The climax of her story was coming, that he could tell.

"I came back one night after I'd stopped using them for a bit. I was just like how you saw me back there. I was angry and upset with my mum and myself, and we screamed at each other about how we felt. Eventually, I got so angry that I earth blasted her in the face. She called the guards on me, called me _deranged._ Cor found me as I ran away, we went together, and I started using gems again 'cause I didn't want this to happen a second time. Seems like that was a bad choice..."

Roland pitied her. He didn't know if the misery of his own past could compare. Sounded to him like her time had been rough.

He respected Myrtle for it getting through it, though. She'd stayed tough and happy in spite of everything, and that in itself was an accomplishment he held her in high regard for. Not many could say they held up this way after going through so much.

"If anything," Roland started, "I think we need to work on that spirit gem problem. Is there something we can do?"

"I dunno what you expect to do," she replied. "We don't have enough money or time to see a doctor. Maybe if I didn't have this damn headache I'd be able to sleep at night..."

"Do I need to get Tris to give you a head massage?"

Myrtle glared. "The fuck are you tryin' to imply?"

"Headache treatment, obviously." He grinned a little.

Myrtle raised her balled fist. Roland flinched on instinct, but as soon as she saw him react, she smiled back. She always got him with that. She was so unpredictable...

"Anyway, uh... I dunno." Roland shrugged. "Is there anything we can get you, maybe? What helps people sleep...?"

"I'm not sure," Myrtle said. "But I think we should leave and talk about this later. That storm's calmed down a bit now and I wanna make it back before it picks up again."

She was right; the crackle of muted hail had stopped, and the turbulent gale had slowed. The small blaze in the middle of the room was dying as well and, without fuel to renew the flame, they'd be plunged into the black and have to struggle to find their way out.

"You wanna stop using gems, though, right?" Roland asked as they walked to the exit together. Myrtle nodded, her eyes set in an almost fierce determination.

"Yeah. I have a lot to fix. And, you know... maybe I can start with one thing as soon as we get back..."

* * *

"No, bud. She's a friend. We sorted things out."

Fluffy snarled as they reached the bottom of the hill to the hollow, fangs pulled over his lips. He tried to push between Roland and Myrtle, but the red dragon stopped him with a shake of his head.

"No, stop it," he said to his beast. Fluffy paused his growling and fell back onto his hind legs. Confused by what he thought had become an enemy, Fluffy cocked his head. "Everything's okay now, bud. She's not evil."

"I'm really sorry, Fluffy." Myrtle reached out with a paw. Fluffy, however, reared away, not consenting to such a pat. "Oh..."

"He'll come around again," Roland told her. He turned to Fluffy and gave a slight glare. "Don't be rude, Fluffy. I know she hit me in the face, but I'm _fine_."

Fluffy shook his head, unwavering in his belief that Roland was the very opposite. His master didn't have much of a chance to respond, though, because a new figure emerged from the cave at the top of the hill.

"Myrtle!" Tris called down to them, sliding down the sopping hill. Roland stumbled back and barely dodged the splash of muddied water and hail. She almost tripped as she leaped past Fluffy, excitement and fear in every step. "You're back!"

"Yeah... I'm not very good at hide and seek. Roland found me." Myrtle adjusted the satchel by her side. He'd shown her to the patch of thorns where she'd fallen before they came running back to the hollow to grab it again. It was banged up and torn in a few places from when they'd tugged it out together, but it held fast.

"Y-you're all scratched up!" Tris hovered around her, studying her slashed legs. They were small and numerous, only noticeable if you focused on her scales. Nothing major, but they probably ached.

"Just fell into some thorns. No biggie." Myrtle sighed, the smile on her face steady. It showed alleviation, so glad that Tris was worried about her, not loathing her for how she'd snapped. Roland wondered how they'd formed such a bond this quickly. He wasn't sure if they'd reached a month of travel yet, and they were already inseparable. "Can we go inside? It's cold out here and I bet that storm's gonna come back."

"Yes, come on." Tris turned around and climbed up the hill again, drenched soil tumbling from beneath her paws. "We need to clean up those cuts and get you warm..."

"Wow. Doesn't even care about my well-being," Roland said with a laugh, following her to the entrance. What about his eye? Where had her care for that gone? He almost wanted to chortle again.

"Sorry, Roland," Myrtle replied. "I'm just top priority."

After Fluffy vaulted the dragons and squeezed under the hole in the cave, the others reached the top and allowed themselves entrance. Roland was glad to be back, to no longer be in the thick of the stormy night, battered by wind and icy needles.

He shuffled around the campfire, rubbing his paws together over the top of it, and shivered, so suddenly bathed in warmth after braving the some of the worst winter had to offer. He noticed the corpses of a couple piggle, too, freshly slain. Crimson stained the rocks at the entrance, so he assumed nobody had entered the storm to search for food, that instead they were fortunate to have them run towards them. They'd probably been seeking shelter from the storm.

Myrtle sat on the other side of the blaze and Tris searched Fluffy's pouches for any medical supplies they had. Unfortunately, there wasn't much; a few bandages for the worst of her cuts was all the yellow dragoness could offer. A trip into the markets for supplies tomorrow was probably in order.

When Tris was finished searching and started looking over Myrtle's legs for the longer, larger slices, Fluffy sat down near Roland, annoyed over Myrtle showing up again. He didn't seem to understand why Roland had brought her back. For once, he was unwilling to listen to the words of his master.

Roland was missing one companion, who he realised had tucked herself away in her little corner again. Ashlyn's blood-flecked tail blade lay unconcealed from behind it. He leaned back and peered around the corner. Her eyes gleamed as she glanced up at him and she offered a thin smile, before going back to her brooding like she hadn't seen him. Roland hummed to himself, surmising that Myrtle had been talking about correcting relations with Ashlyn when she'd told him about fixing one problem back at the cave. He deliberated over when she'd actually go ahead and try to do that.

Or if that would even go well.

Myrtle saw him staring at her when she turned her gaze away from the hind leg Tris was patching up. Comprehension lingered in her eyes, but now she seemed indecisive about approaching the blue dragoness. Roland didn't blame her. She probably had no clue what to say to her.

She kept looking between Ashlyn's tail blade and the two kills on the floor. There was something brewing in her expression, like some kind of revelation, but that look disappeared moments later.

Roland relaxed a little into Fluffy, his eyelids growing heavy, exhausted from the sprint and enduring the storm. He wasn't going to sleep yet. He just wanted a cushion to rest upon. If his monster was incredible at one thing, it was being a pillow.

He leaned forward again, though, when Tris finished and Myrtle got sick of the silence and sick of trying to think about her next words. She sighed, clenching her toes together, then looked into the incline where Ashlyn was hidden.

"Can we talk, Ashlyn?"

The blue dragoness was understandably confused. She opened her mouth, then stopped as if her own element had frozen her to the spot. She didn't say a word, didn't move a muscle, barely even seemed able to think. There was a hint of panic there. She thought she was going to be yelled at again.

"Ashlyn?" Myrtle called once more. She caught a glimpse of the blue dragoness' hesitant expression and lowered her face a little. "I'm... not mad. Just wanna chat about things. Plus, it's... probably real cold over in that corner."

Roland wasn't sure if Ashlyn was going to come out for a moment – she stood still a few moments longer, her feet glued to the floor – but she soon came out of her hiding place, glancing once at Myrtle before choosing to keep her eyes far from that direction. The red dragon patted the spot beside him, ushering Ashlyn over.

"Hi..." she muttered. Gratefully, she plopped down in the spot Roland had offered.

Tris sealed Fluffy's pockets up again and sat an equal distance from Roland and Myrtle. She looked to want to say something; her face was a mixture of fear and stupefaction, worry over yet another argument breaking out. Fluffy seemed to feel the same way, too. A glare narrowed his golden spheres. He didn't move to stop anything for the sole reason that Roland had quietly told him to sit still.

Myrtle, who'd been carefully considering her words for a few moments in awkward quietude, finally opened her mouth. "Look. I don't really know how to say this, so... I'm sorry. I shouldn't have gotten mad and I shouldn't have yelled at you for nothing. I... I was really stupid. I'm sorry, Ashlyn."

"...Y-you're sorry?" Ashlyn frowned, bewildered. "Why? Y-you... You don't have to be. I-it's not like I deserve any better..."

"No, that's not true," Myrtle said. She looked at the fresh piggle splayed across the floor, then back to Ashlyn again. "All you've been tryna do is help and you've done a damn good job at it so far. You've been helpin' with the hunt a lot, you've stayed up way longer than any of us for the watch, and you've always had Roly's side. He'd be dead if it wasn't for you, Ashlyn."

That still made Roland shiver when he thought about it. He was so, so glad to have friends like these.

"I've just... not trusted you much and I didn't like the choice you made back in Firemore. That was _wrong_. You shouldn't have killed Carolin. You should've come to us and we could've helped you. Now we're out here gettin' Drevon back."

Ashlyn flinched. She accepted her criticism with no rebuttal, though. Roland was about to speak up for her, thinking Myrtle needn't bring that up again, but the earth dragoness spoke up first.

"But you're really tryin' to help, aren't you? Maybe you're doin' it to prove yourself and that might cause problems with us, but you wanna help. You've been doin' everything you can to help out and, really, I've only kinda started to realise that recently... I should give you more credit for it."

Myrtle peered into the fire. She shut her eyes for a moment, blew a breath upon the quivering flame.

"I've been tryin' to hate you so much, but it's wearing me out. I'm stressin' myself out and that, on top of all the gem trouble I've been havin'... It made me snap. So, I... Can I ask of you somethin'?"

Ashlyn breathed, soft and shallow. She was having a difficult time processing what Myrtle was telling her – this was an _actual_ apology, and the first time they'd ever spoken together like normal people – but she managed a slight nod.

"Can we stop the silence thing?" Myrtle asked. "I-I'm sick of it and... and I'd just like to be friends with everyone here. E-even you."

Ashlyn's azure gaze shined with a dampness in the trembling glow. A weak smile split her mouth. "Y-yeah. Of course."

Roland felt immeasurably eased after hearing that. He'd thought this problem an impossible one to solve, but he'd been wrong. He was glad to be incorrect. One seemingly insurmountable boulder destroyed, one more standing in their way: Drevon and the curse.

"Thanks..." Myrtle turned away, wiping a paw across her face. "Anyway... I-I'm not hungry tonight. I'm just gonna head off to bed."

"Are you sure?" Tris said as the green dragoness walked over to her bedroll. "There's plenty of piggle to go around."

"Yeah. I'm fine." She tucked herself into the warmth of her sheets and rolled so she was facing the rough wall. "G'night."

Roland looked over at Tris. For a second, the electric dragoness seemed worried, but she smiled widely the next moment, true joy lathered across her features. Roland returned it with just as much happiness. Even Ashlyn joined in, though her grin fled quicker than the others.

After a seared dinner bathed in a mildly spicy sauce and feeding the dreadwing the other piggle raw and bloody, Roland and Ashlyn headed to sleep, too, leaving Tris to keep watch for danger. Before sleeping, the red dragon watched over Myrtle for a while.

She wasn't able to fall asleep in the time he was awake, but she seemed at peace.

Happily, he dozed off snuggled up in a bedroll and the fuzzy coat of his dreadwing.


	35. Starved for Air

Starved for Air

The typewriter was _gone_.

He noticed that as he paced past the wooden stall and the old lady who owned it – she gave him a little wave, recognising him from their encounter days earlier, which he returned with a short smile. It was a negligible detail, Roland knew, and one he should've expected, but he'd actually been hoping to somehow purloin the typewriter for himself. Of course, he didn't want to cause the decrepit dragon hunched over the counter any harm, but the things he could've done with it... He could've recovered all of his work in a jiffy, perhaps started something brand new.

Oh well. Wasn't much use thinking about it now. That thing was gone and the chance had slipped by. It wasn't like it was important in the grand scheme of things anyway. Saving Drevon was top priority, not his aspirations of becoming a dedicated author.

"Fuckin' hell, Roland!" Myrtle called to him through the colourful sea of loosely-armoured dragons. Fortunately, those people didn't give him any looks because of the time, but he really didn't give a damn anymore. There was no point in worrying about what they thought. He'd been approached by a few civilians in the past, but he and his group were always able to talk their way out of that kind of thing. "Hurry up! You're so slow!"

He picked up the pace a little before automatically slowing down again. Apparently, Myrtle and Tristana were summoning him to Alevor's forge for a second time. He was unsure why, but he suspected it had to do with whatever gift they'd been working on for him. He still didn't think he deserved it.

It was making them happy, though. He didn't care much for the present as long as they were happy doing it for him. He was glad to see them both in high spirits, especially after last night's heated kerfuffle. Myrtle looked a lot better. She smiled and laughed with Tris. Even if she was exhausted from her lack of rest again, she was trying to make the absolute best of what she had now.

He couldn't explain how glad he was to see that. Hopefully her mood would keep up.

"Ancestors..." Tris ran towards him quicker than a fire dragon's comet dash. She pulled at his wing, grabbing his attention. "Get your head out of the clouds, Roland!"

Roland looked to the canvas above, the clear, vibrant orange. Not a fluffy spec of white or grey in the sky. "I mean, I don't really see any clouds today..."

"Oh my – I _really_ feel like punching you," Tris exclaimed, growing frustrated with his feigned drought of enthusiasm. He found her reaction hilarious. Never was the yellow dragoness this impatient with him. "Hurry up!"

"Fine, fine..." Roland got a move on, jogging after Myrtle. He had to admit he _was_ curious to see whatever they'd done for him. Getting there more briskly than he was walking appealed to him.

Snow and leftover hail blanketed the streets of Shimmervale like sopping carpet over the stone. It squelched like slush as they padded through it. Roland raised his paw in slight discomfort, wanting to bring up flight as an option instead of running, but Myrtle's crystallisation stopped him once again. There was nothing to be done about that for the moment. Thankfully, the snow wasn't so thick as they went further, but it was still disgusting, as though he were trudging through excrement. He had experienced that before, living in the sewers and all...

It was only the sun that made it bad, the low orb of golden light spearing through the cold-resistant leaves of the tree he walked beneath. It warmed his scales on this chilly sunset afternoon, but also the ground, a double-edged blade. The snow started to melt into a giant ice-peppered puddle as they reached the forge.

They were coming so late because Roland hadn't been able to visit Wren this morning. He'd flown over to his house, but there had been a note left on the doorstep for him, telling him to come back at sunset. He'd been about to soar over there again for more training. As he was about to leave, though, Tris and Myrtle had run back together to inform him of their surprise and now he was on his way to Alevor's smithy.

Smoke bellowed out of the chimney, and as he stood upon the platform outside the building, there came a hiss, red-hot metal cooling in water. Tris stopped by the door and delivered a couple hard knocks. Metal clattered everywhere inside.

"Hey, Ale!" Tris yelled, shaking in her excitement. "We're here with Roland!"

"Aye!" Steel scraped along stone as the llama lifted his mess back up again. Heavy boots thudded against the ground. It swung open with a whine, the atlawa standing tall before them, arms folded. "Sorry about the noise, girls. And Roland. I forget you even exist sometimes, lad."

"I'm a pretty forgettable person," Roland replied with a laugh, and Alevor chuckled with him. Myrtle looked at him disapprovingly. "These two have been excited to show me something."

Alevor stepped to the side and ushered them all through. "It's waiting in here. I'm eager to see your reaction myself. Aye, they've done an incredible job."

Alevor followed them as they headed inside. It was about what Roland would've expected inside, only sparsely furnished: a spare anvil off to the side, a bench with tools sprawled across it on the other, and a furnace crackling with ore in front of him. There was a door next to the spare anvil. Peeping in, Roland could see a bed, sheets unmade. As they turned the corner around the L-shaped room, they entered some kind of kitchen, cupboards splayed across the walls, a counter stretched around the room in that same kind of L-shape. There looked to be a spot where a stove was supposed to be, but it wasn't in the building. He thought he saw the glint of something atop the counter, though Alevor's muscular build blocked further perception.

The atlawa suddenly spun around, hands on his waist. "You ready to see this, Roland?"

"Uh... Yeah?" He nodded. "What's that on the counter?"

"Your gift." The blacksmith stood out of the way so Roland could get a better eyeful. It took him a few moments to realise what it was, but when he did, his jaw fell. He stumbled forward, grabbing onto the side of the counter, and rose to his hind paws to get a greater look.

A helmet made of steel as grey as his chest, rimmed with a glistening gold, designed specifically for him. It was polished beyond reason; he could see his own face reflected in its surface. Roland looked back at Tris and Myrtle, who both smiled in eager anticipation.

"Try it on," the yellow dragoness said.

He couldn't believe he was actually doing this. He grabbed the helmet from the counter, rubbed his paw along the smooth, lustrous metal, and spun it around in his feet. It was slightly padded on the inside for maximum comfort, on the back were two little notches he didn't know the use of, and there were straps buried in each side that would fit beneath his chin. He took a seat on his hind paws, lifted it high into the air, then fitted it through his horns and onto his head.

It fit perfectly. The punctured helmet was designed with his horns in mind, and so it reached right around to the back of his head instead of stopping at the horns like most draconic helmets. He grabbed the angular visor and pulled it over his eyes so it rested on his snout, and stared through the vertical slits sliced into it.

"Not gonna lie, Roland..." Myrtle folded her paws as she rested against the wall. "You look pretty fuckin' awesome in that helmet. I could mistake you for a knight."

Tris was clearly gleeful over his reaction. "I thought about the way you were looking at that armour back in the markets. I wanted to make something for you. I'd never done a helmet before and I really wanted to try it. This was the result."

Roland nodded, still in shock, turning towards the llama. "C-can I have a mirror?"

Alevor retrieved something from one of the cupboards, a hand mirror. It was old, cracked through the centre, but it'd do.

The gold and dark steel complimented each other, matching his own colours nigh perfectly. He lifted the visor and did the flexible leather straps up on each side. Just like everything on this helmet, they fit more snugly than Fluffy's tight, tender grip.

It was _perfect_. It was perfect, and yet he couldn't understand why Myrtle and Tris had gone to such lengths for him.

"You like it obviously." Tris laughed slightly.

"That's an understatement if I've ever heard one," Roland replied. "But why'd you do this for me? I don't deserve this much, do I?"

"We just wanted to do somethin' nice, Roly." Myrtle gave a shrug.

"You didn't have to do _this_!" He creased his brow and took the helmet off. "I can't... accept something like this without giving something back. I don't deserve this..."

Tris cocked her head. "No, no. You do deserve it. You've already given us something. Don't you understand?"

He really didn't think he could just take something like this. He had to do something equally as amazing. There was no questioning that. "And what's that?"

Myrtle sighed. "Friendship, ya dickhead."

"...Really?" He didn't believe that was enough. Sure, he was an okay person to them all, but they'd done the exact same thing with him. Why would they think–

"Get that damn look off your face," Myrtle interrupted his train of thought. "I know exactly what you're thinkin'. You're bein' stupid. We just wanted to do somethin' _cool_ for you, Roly. You don't need to pay us back or anything.

Roland looked down at the helmet clutched in his paws. "I feel bad not being able to give something in return."

"Chin up, lad." Alevor clapped him on the back. Roland grunted; the llama had force equivalent to Myrtle's playful fists. "I know how you feel, but you don't need to do anything. This is just a gesture of kindness. Nothing more, nothing less. You don't need to pay a soul."

"Please accept it, Roland," Tris agreed. She had this look of worry on her face, fearful he wouldn't take this valuable thing because he couldn't give anything back in return. He looked down at it again, muzzle twitching. "After all, we did make it for you. It would be a waste of our time if you didn't take it."

"Well..." Roland lifted it to his head again, nodding. He sat it atop his skull once more. He knotted the straps together again and fitted them beneath his chin. "I suppose you're right. I'd be a bad friend if I didn't. I just wish I could give you something..."

"You do enough," Myrtle said. "Seriously, Roland. Don't worry about it. We loved every second of makin' it together. Shut up."

He still wouldn't believe that. Friendship wasn't a currency he'd buy items like these with. Not something so personal, or so damned expensive.

But Myrtle was right anyway. He needed to shut his trap. He was truly grateful for this, but he wasn't acting like it. He could think of something to do in return later on. A gift...

Maybe Tristana's hatchday was coming up soon? He couldn't do that for Myrtle; hers had been months ago, on the fifth day of the year.

Thinking of hatchdays made him realise his was coming soon, though. A couple weeks and days from now and he'd be sixteen. Sixteen days to sixteen years. Maybe he could think of the helmet as an early hatchday present.

"Alright, alright..." He exhaled in annoyance. He was going to cause an argument if he kept this moronic behaviour up. "Thanks so much, girls. I can't even begin to explain how happy I am with it. It's probably the best helmet I've ever seen. How much did this cost, though? It had to have a hefty price tag, considering the gold."

"Aye, I knew you'd ask about the price." Alevor chuckled. "Not cheap, Roland. That's fourteen karat gold in that helmet you're wearing. If we're talking Shimmervale prices, it'd be more than fifteen thousand copper pieces for just the gold. And then there's obviously the commission fee."

Roland's heart skipped a beat at the price. He was already expecting a high figure, but it came as a shock to him anyway. "Ancestors... You were the one that paid for all this, right?"

"Eh." Alevor shrugged. "I had some old rings and a necklace laying about that the commissioner never collected because they passed away, I think. Tristana saw the pieces, got down on her knees, and begged me to let her use them. I couldn't take her staring at me with those damned eyes. I don't mind, really. I have plenty of money already. Everyone wants a good blacksmith in these parts. That's one reason Darak gave me my badge..."

"Y'know, I'm kinda surprised people tolerate you, Ale," Myrtle said. "You'd think they'd question letting you in here, even with the badge."

"Aye, you'd think so. But Darak is a respected dragon and people listen to him when he explains why he's done something. It's not like he hands these things out willy-nilly, either way. There's only ever been another... two badges given out, I think. I'm not sure who they belong to. I'd have to ask Darak for you."

"Eh, it's not really that important," Roland replied with a smile. "Thanks for letting them make the helmet anyway. And you, girls... Seriously, thanks so much. I love it. I do have another question, though... What about when I outgrow the helmet? My head's going to get bigger."

"I did a little something just for that!" Tris bounced over, excited to show off whatever invention she'd placed inside his helmet. That personal touch made it worth a thousand times more to Roland. She raised a paw to his head as she moved behind him. "This little thing on the back here increases the size of the helmet, and the other one moves and increases the size of the horn holes. It shifts the layered plates. We made sure the padding inside was tightly packed as well, so it could stretch out."

Not only had he obtained a helmet, he'd gotten probably the best headgear on the market. It suited him, was comfortable to wear, and would last him many, many years. Now, if only he had a complete set of this stuff...

That was wishful thinking, and he wouldn't ever ask something so great of Tris. They didn't have the time – and she probably didn't have the knowledge – for that.

"Well, anyway..." Roland went to rub a paw through his frills, but he realised he still had the helmet on. He felt like an idiot. "I, uh... I should probably get going to Wren's place now. He'd be waiting for me."

"The Guardian?" Alevor asked. Right, of course, Alevor had no idea what was going on still. Myrtle and Tris had kept their quest a secret from the llama. Roland was sure they could trust him with that knowledge, but it wasn't like he needed to know. "You must be an important dragon, Roland."

"I'm... his student? Yeah, student," Roland said. The blacksmith frowned, furry arms folded.

"Didn't think an ice dragon could train a fire dragon, but whatever works."

"It's a long story." Roland turned away with a wave. "See you guys later."

"Bye, Roland!" Tris called as he exited the building. "Enjoy the helmet!"

Roland snickered to himself. He definitely would. He was beyond grateful for the gift. Nobody had ever done such a kind thing for him. He'd met Tristana back in Firemore barely a month ago, but here she was, offering him this for hardly a month's worth of friendship.

Well, friendship did come quicker in dire situations, too.

If anything, he was sure about one thing. He loved his friends more than anything in the world.

As he left the smithy with a skip in his step, he heard the llama's voice echo from within the walls.

"Hey, Tris! Can you light this lantern for me with your magic? It's getting late and I want to keep working through the dark!"

Roland kept walking for a while longer, deeming it as unimportant to him. He came to a sudden stop a moment later, like he'd hit a solid wall. His breath held still and, in an instant, worry spiralled through the depths of his mind.

Lighting a lantern? With her magic? After he'd witnessed her panic every time she'd tried to use it since the Everlost Forest?

Roland knew this couldn't be good. His throat tightened around a sphere of fear, one he barely managed to swallow. He had a lingering thought that tried to tell him he could move on and that she'd end up fine, but he wouldn't dare listen to it.

He swivelled around and jogged back towards the smithy, feet pattering atop drenched stone. He entered the doorway, then felt paused before he padded around the corner, hesitation telling him to halt. He could hear what was going on around the bend, knew exactly the storm about to strike this house.

"...Tris?" the llama repeated. "Are you... okay?"

There was no answer from her. Her muffled breaths came in gasps; she chose to focus on that, not the people around her.

"Oh, crap..." Myrtle muttered under her breath. "Fuck–"

"I-I need to go," Tris exclaimed, forcing those words out like a splutter. She started dragging her feet across the floor. Alevor, however, had other ideas.

"Hold on there, Tris." His gloved hand met her back, and her feet stopped their movement. "Tell me what's wrong. Did I do something? Say something?"

Roland didn't hear another word from her. It was then that he decided to hold his breath and make his entrance. Alevor and Myrtle were obviously surprised to see him, but Myrtle lost that sense of shock quickly.

Tris clenched her eyes shut when hers met Roland's. A tear trailed down her cheek.

"Tris..." Roland approached her, quivering himself. He wasn't certain what to say. He lowered his voice, like he could break her with noise. "Is everything okay? What's been causing this?"

At one point, she'd been gasping for air. Now she wouldn't breathe at all. She crouched down, everything trembling. Roland and Myrtle shifted closer, both with an outstretched paw to place upon her.

"Do you need to go somewhere to calm down?" Myrtle asked. "Is–"

"I can't breathe," she said, her voice so low that Roland could only faintly make out the words. Something about that made Myrtle's face twist. Realisation glowed like a bulb newly lit. Roland had a fair idea, too. He knew it was going to be worse than the others.

Myrtle set a paw upon Tristana's foot. "Focus on your breathing. Don't–"

"I-I'll hurt everyone," the yellow dragoness whispered. "I'll..."

"Don't think about any of that. Listen to Myrtle." Roland propped his foot upon her shoulder. "Everything's going to be okay, Tris. Trust us."

"Just like Harper..."

Roland had a feeling that that was where her panic had spawned.

"Tris." Myrtle squeezed her paw with her own. Tris looked up, eyes glazed over with moisture. "Roland's right. Everything's gonna be fine. Breathe with me, okay? In and out. C'mon."

Myrtle inhaled, slowly and calmly, through her nostrils, then let the air escape through her mouth. Tris watched her with tearful eyes, then tried her best to join in. They seemed to shake with the might of leaves in a hurricane – she was starved for air. It didn't calm the wildfire raging inside of her.

Her mouth moved as if to gasp, yet nothing came once more. She shook her head, tears casting angry, pale scars along her face. "N-no... No, I..."

"Everything will be okay," Myrtle said, refusing to give up the example she'd shown Tris. She breathed in again, radiating a layer of peace Roland had never seen from her before, or thought he would see ever again. "You've gotten through this before and you can do it again. You _will_ do it again. Don't focus on any of that stuff you're thinking about. Just _breathe_ , Tris. That's all. You can do this."

Tris choked on a sob, but she listened. Something started to happen at that point. She snapped her eyes shut, inhaled sharply through her nostrils, and let it all out through her mouth. Her breath came again, then again, until finally each lungful of air stopped quivering with panic. Everything slowed, like Roland had placed a crystal near her.

It took a bit longer for Tris to really regain composure. Roland sat there for a solid two minutes in silence with the blacksmith. Seemed the llama had no clue what was happening or how to deal with it; he stood off to the side, arms threaded together, back and boot against the wall, face cast to the floor. Myrtle had become an expert in seconds, though, as if she'd experienced exactly this kind of thing.

Maybe this same thing had happened when Tris disappeared that other night.

"See? You're okay. Good job, Tris." Myrtle smiled reassuringly. Roland had never seen her speak so kindly in his life. It was an odd sight to see, but he was more than thankful to see it.

Tris returned Myrtle's happiness, at ease, though it was swift to disperse. Something else lined her expression, a painful mixture of guilt and confusion.

"It was Harper, yeah?" Myrtle asked her. Roland already knew it was that, but it was better to not reach an assumption. "The whole thing in the forest?"

"I-if I use my magic, I-I'm just going to hurt somebody again," Tris responded. "I just..."

"That's not true." Roland frowned. "You hit him because you were trying to protect me, right?"

"I didn't... didn't want to hurt him like _that_ ," Tris said with a sigh. "I was aiming for his paw, his gun, but the lightning was too powerful and it _arced_. I th-thought I had control, b-but... I-I don't deserve magic. I can't use it without hurting people!"

"Tris..." Myrtle cocked her head. "We all make mistakes. Roland had to tell me that last night. Just 'cause it didn't come out the way you wanted before doesn't mean you're gonna hurt more people when you use it again. You were scared back in the forest. We wouldn't expect you to have control."

"D-doesn't change the fact that I almost killed him..." Tris wiped a paw across her eye. "I–

"I think you did a good thing," Roland told her. "You saved my life, Tris. If you hadn't been there..."

"I could've done it differently. Maybe if we'd stopped him differently, he'd still be coming with us..."

Of course, Roland should've expected that. Even in spite of everything, she still wanted her father. And she had a point, too. Maybe if they'd been able to stop him, he'd still be with them to this day. Maybe he could've worked his way into doing better the next time.

Perhaps he could've been willing to give Harper another chance, but Harper had tried to _kill_ him, and he had no reason to believe the cheetah wouldn't have tried it again. Ashlyn had been a different story.

"Maybe, Tris." Myrtle shrugged. As Roland took his paw off her shoulder, Myrtle put hers atop Tris. "But there's nothing we can do about that now. I just don't want you to blame yourself, okay? Roly's right; you saved him, and you probably saved me from whatever he was going to shoot next. For that, I owe you a massive fuckin' debt, one I can't repay. You love your dad and that's understandable, but he was dangerous and we couldn't keep goin' with him. I'm glad you came with us instead of staying with him."

"M-maybe I could've helped him get better," Tris replied, desperately clinging onto whatever reason she could find, no matter how weak.

Myrtle clutched her shoulders a little more tightly. "And what if you couldn't? What if he really started to hurt you, or worse? Is that really worth _your life_? Would you die for him? To be honest, Tris, I... I couldn't see anythin' other than that happening."

Tris opened her mouth, but stopped there. She sniffled softly. Myrtle gave her a short smile; she'd come out of this argument victorious. The green dragoness lifted her legs and folded them around the yellow dragoness in a strong embrace. Tris didn't waste a second gently pushing her cheek against Myrtle's.

Roland sat against the wall, patiently awaiting their parting. They were in full comfort of each other. Neither wanted to leave it. If they could've sat there all evening, they would've.

And, if Roland was being honest, he really wouldn't have minded watching that.

"Well..." Alevor spoke up a while later, scratching at the tightly-knitted woollen fur atop his head. "I've heard a lot today. I think I understand it, but..."

"You've been real good to me and Tris, Ale," Myrtle said as she separated herself from her friend – the electric dragoness looked incredibly disappointed to have to leave it, but accepting – and gave her attention to the quiet blacksmith. "I think you deserve to know what's happenin' to the world and us. We might need a bit of help, actually."

Roland wasn't sure what assistance they could garner from the atlawa smith, but Myrtle was an intelligent girl. She definitely had a plan. He didn't mind telling Alevor of the transpired events either way.

And so began another explanation of their journey so far after Roland shut the door so nobody could eavesdrop as easily. Myrtle quietly recounted the Everlost Forest, the troll they'd fought when Tris had run off, and Harper's drunken anger when he'd popped a bullet into Roland's stomach. She touched on the plans of the Warfang Guardians and Wren's supposed allegiance with her and her friends, and then she went over the wyverns, their curse and the purple dragon. Finally, the topic of why they were going after Drevon, because he was a good friend of theirs. It was long ten-minute explanation of everything happening and Roland didn't expect Alevor to comprehend it all, but the llama seemed rather accepting of the new information, something the red drake hadn't been expecting.

"You see, Ale," Myrtle continued, a paw against her chin as she pushed her spine into the door to the bedroom, "we need a boat to get to Dante's Freezer so we can get Drevon back, and we can't buy one. It's way too far to fly."

"Aye, I'm aware," sighed the blacksmith. "This is all so sudden. The world's going to end if you don't do anything... Is that right, Tris?"

"Yeah." Tris nodded once. She'd sat herself near Myrtle, right on her side. "I know it's all really confusing. It confused me when I heard about it. It took me a while to accept it and to decide to come along with Myrtle and everyone else. I chose to come because, you know... they were my friends. And to help save the world, which is... a weird thought in itself." She laughed a little at that last part.

"Well, if you're saying it, lass, then I'll believe you all." Alevor grinned slightly himself. "I did wonder what those streaks in the sky were. Haven't seen anything at all that might make the Guardians evildoers, but like I said, I'll believe you. It's the only explanation we got. I thought Darak was making plans to better reinforce this city with soldiers instead of the hidden force he has now, but... does that mean he's working with the Guardians on this?"

"I didn't even consider that," Roland said, more to himself than anyone else. Breaking his train of cloudy thought apart, he looked back at Alevor rather than ceiling. "But maybe. I don't feel like he is, though. The way the Guardians put it, they were working against him, not with him. I think they're looking to slowly convert everyone to their belief for whatever reason, and I'd say this is a pretty weak target because of the recent revolution and the fact there's only dragons. Do the dragons here hate you, Ale?"

"They... tolerate me," Alevor responded with a saddened sigh. "They know I'm a good blacksmith, but a lot of them don't consider me as much of a person, maybe because a lot of them were part of the revolution. Aye... It gets on my nerves sometimes."

Roland gave a bow of the head. "Then I think it's safe to say they hate everyone else. What the Guardians believe in is very pro-dragon, and because they're Guardians, I'll bet everyone here is willing to listen to them. Some people just don't have a mind of their own. They'll consume whatever rubbish you throw at them. The Guardians back in Firemore did stuff like that sometimes. People just listened and didn't even think."

"I don't think it'll be that easy for them to start talking people into what they believe," Tris said. "But it's not like it matters. They're kind of just finding stuff to do. They think the world's going to end and restart with dragonkind at the top soonish, and they probably think they'll be reincarnated for 'doing the work of Malefor' or something. It almost feels like they're doing this because they're bored..."

"Eh, not somethin' we have to worry about, though," Myrtle replied with a sigh. "We can't do anythin' about that. We just need to focus on gettin' Drevvy back. And that's why we need you help us, Ale. We're gonna need to borrow you and your boat."

"Well, I was leaving Shimmervale to head off to the Shattered Vale for a bunch of comissions soon. They all wanted rubies and I know a good seller of gemstones over there. I guess I can drop you off at Dante's Freezer on the way."

"Great!" Roland cheered. "Listen, uh... We might have to leave at night. We have a big monster we keep as a pet back at our cave, and we're gonna need to bring him here under the cover of darkness. Can you arrange that?"

"Monster?" Alevor asked.

"It's a dreadwing," Roland explained with a chuckle. When Alevor gave him a frown, he felt the urge to elaborate further. "They went extinct a long time ago, and... Okay, it's probably better just to show you when we get him here. He's a bit scary-looking, but in reality he's big ball of hugs and snuggles. He's a good boy. His name's Fluffy."

"Fluffy, eh?" Alevor shrugged. "Welp... I guess I can make that work. As long as he'll fit on board."

"Yeah, he'll fit." Myrtle nodded. "Thanks a lot for this. You're doin' us a _serious_ favour here. You're doin' the world a favour."

"Aye, but don't thank me yet. We need to leave first. When will that be?"

Roland took the helmet off and held it to his chest; it was so comfortable, so remarkably light, that he hadn't even felt it there on his head. Already it felt like a natural part of his body, like a second cranium. "I'm not sure. It could be tomorrow, though I doubt it. It'll probably be a little while yet, maybe a week while Wren figures out how this time magic stuff works. Just be prepared for anything. If you don't mind, we might have to wake you up suddenly at night."

"Aye. All good. I don't sleep deeply anyway." The llama chuckled a bit. "Thanks for telling me this either way. It's good to finally have some resolution to everything that's happened. First Firemore exploding, and now world-ending magic eaters... I just wonder what's coming for us after that."

"Ha, you got that right." Myrtle chuckled. "Some new ancient evil is gonna come along and destroy the fuckin' solar system next time."

Everybody managed a hearty laugh at that one. It was so horribly depressing, and yet somehow it remained funny to Roland in spite of that. It was kind of eerie, actually. Had he really become that desensitised to blood and death?

"Anyway," the green dragoness continued, patting Tris on the back with her wing. "I say we get going back to the cave and let Roland go see jerkface. What do ya say?"

Tris pulled herself up, using Myrtle's leg as a support to balance herself. "That sounds fine to me."

"I guess I'll see you two later, then," Roland said. "Thanks again for the helmet."

"No need!" Tris waved to him. "Bye, Roland!"

He gave a short wave back and watched them leave together, Myrtle glued to Tristana's side like she'd suddenly turned into Fluffy, a smile on his face. He uttered a quick goodbye to the blacksmith, fitted the helmet to his skull again, then rushed off, excited. Even if it wouldn't come for a while yet, Roland was glad to have a solid foundation to this plan. Being certain he could get something done was one of his favourite feelings in the whole wide world. Change was rough, but a carefully constructed plan made it so much more pleasant

It was about time to figure out what Wren had in mind for Drevon.

* * *

A wash of featureless orange glossed over the sky, the sun a blazing beacon in the west, Roland lighted on Rookborough Avenue and started walking, allowing his sore wings a rest. In his excitement, he'd flapped hard and fast passing dragons on his way to Wren's, probably a mistake on his part. The ground was dry and the snow didn't come back, but that nippy feeling in the air remained. Roland could only imagine what it would be like here in a couple weeks.

Not that he'd experience that. He felt like he'd be gone by then. He didn't have all the time in the world to waste here in Shimmervale. Wren could surely figure out what needed to be done in that time, considering how much he'd figured out beforehand.

"Well..." Roland smirked to himself. He _was_ heading to Dante's Freezer. It'd be appalling over there, a merciless snowstorm. He didn't think the worn scarf tied around his neck would be enough to keep him warm. Thankfully, he had a Fluffy to snuggle with.

The thought of the cold didn't really bother him, though. If it was for Drevon, he'd go through anything. To the depths of hell, to the heavens, wherever. He couldn't give two shits wherever that dragon went. He _would_ find him, and with Wren's increasingly promising assistance, he'd break him free of the chains holding his mind captive.

Wet feet pattering in the puddles, Roland sped up a little bit. There was nobody to dodge on the quiet avenue, nobody that could interrupt or stare. He liked this street a lot. It gave him time to ponder things alone, away from the chaos of his fun-loving friends. He loved his friends, definitely, but Myrtle caused a little too much excitement sometimes. Not that he minded much; Tristana loved every bit about that green dragoness, and Ashlyn seemed to have a good time watching everyone's happiness. He always put the feelings of his friends over himself.

But this silence was nice for once. Apart from the whirling chirp of a bird perched in the branches of the avenue's trees, peace reigned supreme.

He didn't think he would ever feel so comfortable inside a city occupied almost solely by dragons. Firemore had been a different experience, variety a normality, even if it'd been mostly dragons, cheetahs, and moles. Rare were other species, like the salamanders and manticores from the Dustlands, but he'd seen a couple before. Apparently the salamanders had once been prey to the manticores. After shared civilisation came to the Dragon Realms after the signing of the treaty, they'd opted to live in harmony instead.

That was what he'd heard anyway. The Dustlands these days were a place teeming with crooks and outlaws like grains of sand. He wasn't sure if the manticores and salamanders still called that place home. There had been a major settlement there, he remembered, called something along the lines of 'Goldwell,' but he wasn't exactly certain. Who knew if they still inhabited that risky place? They'd probably headed elsewhere and left it to be ravaged and occupied by lawbreakers. He knew they weren't a common race in the Dragon Realms anymore, at least. Most had moved overseas.

In his thoughts, he'd totally forgotten where he was supposed to be going and had missed Wren's house, his feet now at the fence lining the cliff to the sea. He felt the need to prop his paws up on the tight chains and look out over the ocean. He wasn't looking in the direction of Dante's Freezer; if he turned his head to the south, he would be. Not that the island of blizzard and storm was visible from this distance. That was why he needed a boat.

No islands between it to take breaks on, nothing at all. Just open, clear sea, the sun sparkling like white-hot topaz along its surface. He sighed, inhaling the crisp air of the sea, breathing that familiar scent. One that reminded him of all the loss and hardship he'd endured.

Roland felt like someone at his age would've gone insane over all this. He'd gone through _a lot_ , definitely for a kid of fifteen years. So had all his friends, all fifteen and sixteen respectively. They'd done well so far to keep their spirits high. Without his friends, he wouldn't have made it to Shimmervale, probably not even to the Everlost Forest, or maybe even Midrun.

He'd be a mutilated corpse in the water if not for Ashlyn. Just another ashen casualty if he'd decided to end it all back in Firemore, if the thought of his friends hadn't come to him.

He really loved them all. He couldn't express that enough. Myrtle had been his friend for years because of how kind and playful she was, Tristana was so nice, and Ashlyn... Well, he found himself liking her quite a bit.

He almost wanted to go as far as to say he had an attraction to her – she was cute and made him laugh a lot, and furthermore was always trying to help out and always making him feel so much better about himself. She'd prioritised doing those last two things. She was a prime example of someone really trying their best, and Roland liked that about her a lot.

But he wouldn't go _that_ far about her. He regarded her as a good friend, not much more than that. Cute, sure, but not somebody he'd love. Not yet anyway. Not that she'd like him that way _ever_.

He snickered to himself. It was a funny thing to think about. Once more, he let all his breath out in a sigh.

"Oh, right," he said to himself. "I'm supposed to be going to Wren's..."

Roland let go of the chains, gave the ocean one last long glance, then spun around. He tried to brush a paw through his frills again, but like the last time, he had a helmet on and he realised he was even more of an idiot. He put a foot forward, about to head to the ice dragon's temporary home.

The puddles to his right splashed, and before he could comprehend what was happening, a force slammed into his side, winding him. His body left the ground, somebody's limbs tightening around his torso. He went still for a second, his mind swimming with confusion, before beginning to struggle in the grip of whatever creature had grabbed him off the path. The wind was like a tornado against his face – he looked forward and realised he was headed straight for the closest alleyway.

Roland tried to yell out, but a metallic hand clamped his jaws shut. Muffled, he screamed into his own mouth, writhing in shock and panic, heart thumping to the beat of sprinting boots. Another set of hands gripped onto him as he got a look at the creature carrying him.

Tall and bipedal, features covered by an iron mask and a hooded cloak of green. He barely had time to register that they looked liked cheetahs as he was shoved against the wall of the alleyway. He flicked his tail around to try and slice at one of them, but it was barely of any use. With their four steel paws, they pinned every bit of his body to the wall and scratched his scales. Their strength was beyond Roland's limitations.

He was still yelling into his muzzle by the time one of them smashed their fist into the side of his jaw. His eyes snapped shut, tears stinging at their corners. One of the figures pushed their face inches from his. Roland got a blurry look at the sharp daggers staring at him from beneath the cover of the mask.

"Be quiet and stop struggling if you want to live, drake," he said in his deep, muffled tone. Roland listened without hesitation, choking on the sobs rising in his throat, trying so desperately to breathe after being winded. "Answer truthfully and we'll see about letting you go."

"W-what..." Roland's breathy voice came. "W-what d-do you want? W-why–"

"You are the time dragon, correct?" the other feminine figure asked.

The time dragon? They... They were working with the Guardians, weren't they?

If he told them, they'd probably kill him!

"N-no!" He forcefully shook his head. "W-what are you–"

A low punch to the gut cut him off. Roland spluttered, face falling as sobs shattered the wall he'd tried to construct in his throat. He wanted to scream for help, but if he tried, they'd kill him on the spot. The male biped grabbed his muzzle and pushed his chin up so his neck was pulled tight, horns brushing against the wall. The other put a dagger against his throat; he could feel how sharp it was against his scales, like the toothed blade wanted to chew through his oesophagus.

"Don't. _Lie_."

He could feel them glaring through their masks, almost as keenly as the knife was.

"We've been watching you and the Guardian. We saw the crystals and we saw Wren's betrayal. That was time magic, yes?"

There was no other choice. He had to tell them, or they'd slash right through his neck.

"Y-yeah," he coughed out. "Why does it matter? W-what do you want!?"

"Alright. We're taking you to the Guardians. We'll see how they–"

There came a noise, like a choke, and then the dagger fell from Roland's neck. The female biped looked to try and scream, but all that came was a gurgling as crimson spurted from her neck. She slumped over, a tight paw around her throat as if to strangle herself, as another bullet of lead met her skull and killed her. There was no gunshot. Nothing at all. Almost silently, she was gone as quickly as Roland had met her.

Roland regained most control over his body as she died, but was paralysed with fear. He stared into the body in horror, then looked back up at the cheetah who couldn't help looking at his fallen comrade. Roland shook his mind free of shock before flicking the dulled end of his tail blade between the legs of the other figure. He tried to saw at it, tried to cut off whatever was there. Fortunately for him, it worked.

The remaining green-cloak grabbed the area and fell onto his knees, dropping Roland. The red dragon tripped over the body on the ground as he tried to run, then felt the gauntlets of the figure latch onto his tail. They pulled against him for only a second before the force immediately slackened.

Roland saw and heard the steel mask fragment as another bullet broke through, revealing the cheetah's face beneath. His blue muzzle gaped like the bloody hole in his forehead. Roland didn't look back as he freed his tail and broke into a sprint, cheek flaring.

There was a figure in front of him, the same green cloak and mask, the smoky barrel of an E.F. pointed in his direction. Roland skidded to a halt, flashbacks of when Harper had put a gun in his face surfacing. He didn't get a good enough look at the weapon to tell what kind it was when the figure shoved it back into its holster and dashed off, down the street and into another alleyway.

Roland wanted to call, wanted to ask who the hell they were, but couldn't jump at the opportunity to. He gasped for air. He cleared the tears from his eyes and looked back at the murder committed in front of him.

He wondered for a second if more of them were around, and then ran in a panic towards Wren's house.

Why were there cheetahs? Why not dragons? And who had the other one been?

Roland just hoped he wasn't being followed by anybody else. That must've been what he'd spotted a while ago, that tinge of colour that disappeared when he looked in its direction. How long had they known about him for?

Had Brenton actually noticed him?

If anything, now he knew the Guardians were aware of his existence. His life was in danger and, from what the cheetahs had said, Wren's too. He couldn't let his only teacher die...

Roland didn't even knock on Wren's door as he sprinted up the steps. He just turned the unlocked door handle and barged on through, slamming it shut behind him. He yelled Wren's name. Something shifted inside the living room around the bend of the T, then proceeded to trip onto the floor with a thump.

"Roland?" the Guardian called, jogging around the room, coming to a sudden halt before the red dragon. "W-what is the meaning of this!? Why would you simply barge into this–"

"Cheetahs!" Roland exclaimed. "In cloaks! Th-they jumped me, t-took me into an alleyway, and s-said they were gonna take me to the Guardians! I think we've been found out!"

Wren seemed to suppress the urge to gasp in horror. Something about that expression was eerily accepting of that fact.

"I expected this..." The Guardian started shaking his head. "They're everywhere in this city. Those people are a part of the guard here, the people that watch and do Darak's bidding. I never thought they were cheetahs, but..."

"This isn't a time to be _calm_!" Roland said, breathing sharp, almost agonising breaths through his nostrils. "There could be more on the way! What do we do!? What are–

"Calm yourself!" The Guardian shouted, hulking over the red dragon. Roland stopped his futile panic and looked up at Wren. "Panicking isn't going to get us anywhere. We need to keep calm and figure out a course of action. It seems the other Guardians didn't trust me with the information of the cheetahs. Seems my ruse had already been shattered, and now I believe they're after us both. We need to leave _now_. We're heading for the docks."

Wren padded past him. Roland looked at him like he'd lost his mind. "What? I'm not going anywhere yet! Not without my friends!"

"Bugger your friends!" Wren snapped, his head spinning towards Roland. The ice dragon sighed as he turned around to pacify himself, but his ability to keep himself under control was already being wrestled with. "They don't matter. You're the time dragon. They are _not_. We're both in danger. We _need_ to leave!"

"No!" Roland shouted. If this was what Wren thought they should do, he could forget it! He wasn't going anywhere with this dragon, not without his friends! "I'm not leaving without them!"

"There's no time, Roland!" The Guardian stomped back towards him. "Either we leave now or we get attacked and possibly killed!"

"No! We're getting them!"

Wren clamped onto him with a paw and jerked him forward. Roland tripped over, more tears brewing in his eyes. "Get a move–"

"Get AWAY from me!" Roland squirmed out of his grip and rushed forward, out the door. He leaped down the stairs, but as he did so, icy tendrils sprouted from the ground beneath him and froze his feet to the path. He tried to snap his legs free, but Wren's magic was far stronger than any ice he'd encountered. The Guardian wasn't even trying to hurt him, yet the freeze chilled the bones beneath his scales in a heartbeat.

Roland felt fury rush through his veins, blood brought to a boil. Wren padded after him, fangs bared through his muzzle, but before the dragon could open his mouth to persuade Roland again, the red dragon's composure snapped like a frail autumn leaf.

He drew his head back, mana burning in his throat, before jerking forward, a burst of amber light and a keen crystal blasting forward. Wren hadn't a moment to react. His grip on his magic slackened as the crystal ate through the thin scales protecting his shoulder and buried itself in his flesh. Wren roared, voice oddly distorted and slow, and the magic around Roland's feet began to melt, allowing Roland a chance to escape

Roland looked at Wren's pained expression for only a second longer before he leaped into the sky and shot through the air, shattering the ice magic, heart pounding into his breastbone, pronounced in his ears like the kick of a drum.

* * *

"We need to go."

Roland hoped they'd just listen to that as he made his way back to the hollow, but his expectations were unrealistic. There was confusion abound; Myrtle got up, her face twisted into puzzlement.

"Uh... What's happening?" She paced over to the panting red dragon, saw his tear-stained cheeks and eyes, and then grabbed a hold of his shoulder with her paw in worry. "Roly? Are you okay?"

"People..." he said, looking up. "Th-there's people after me. They t-tried to kill me, and then I went to Wren's and he tried to force me to leave Shimmervale with him, b-but I came back for you guys."

Tristana jumped to her feet in surprise. Roland looked around as Myrtle tried to process everything, in search of the blue dragoness, but she was nowhere to be seen. Neither was the fluffy monster he called his companion.

"Where's Ashlyn and Fluffy?"

"Sh-she went out to hunt. Fluffy went with her," Tris answered, panic like her own worst fears had been realised shaking the chords of her voice. "I-I knew we shouldn't have come here. I wasn't comfortable with the whole 'only dragons' thing, but now this..."

"Okay, okay," Myrtle interrupted her, shaking her head. She put a paw to her forehead, closed her eyes, and tried to think. "They... They don't know we're here, do they? We need to wait for Ashlyn and Fluffy."

"I-I dunno. That's what's scaring me," Roland said. "They've been watching me, I know. They probably know we're–"

There came a whistle like a bird whizzing past his head, then a thunk. Roland recoiled, a sharp sting rushing through his neck before numbing entirely; he grabbed at the projectiles stuck in his throat and pulled them out of his neck. Darts of some kind...

His eyelids felt like lead weights.

Something was trying to push him, but he couldn't focus and tripped onto the ground, not feeling the force of the impact, not using his paws to instinctively catch himself. He just fell, his vision starting to darken.

Somebody was calling him, but he couldn't make out the voice in his ears. His head jerked as someone tried to slap him – at least, that was what he thought they'd done.

Breathing was strenuous. He wanted – no, _needed_ to curl up and sleep. He didn't even know what he'd just been doing. Nothing felt right anymore. He didn't care to try and move.

Something entered the hollow, a wave of flailing green, but that was all he could make out. Everything faded as his conscious mind set him free.


	36. Fury Incarnate

Fury Incarnate

When Roland came to, there was yet more darkness. Groggy eyelids opened to the black. The chill sent shivers rattling down his body. There was a leathery weight on his mouth, something clamping it shut, and every one of his limbs were sprawled across a rough surface he couldn't see. He tried to move his weak paws, but an unknown force pulled against them. He shifted his body and attempted to shake free of his invisible shackles.

His blurry mind soon realised the situation he was in: there were leathery cuffs fastened to each paw, multiple tightened around the membrane of his wings, and several others holding down his tail. Only his head remained free.

He was bound to a platform of some kind. He had no clue why. Hadn't he been at the cave?

He started thinking about it. What had happened back at the hollow? He'd been there one moment, and then the next...

Suddenly, it hit him. The dart. The wave of green. Those hooded cheetahs...

His breaths quickened.

He struggled to tear his bonds free, tried to rip the muzzle open using the force of his mouth alone, even tried to bite at the leather itself, but nothing was of use. He wanted to scream in panic and rage, as though to unearth some hidden strength embedded inside him, but all that came out was muffled horror. He was stuck, at the mercy of the Guardians, vulnerable to their wishes.

The scream triggered something, though: a light in the corner of his vision. He saw flickering candlelight, the unmistakable face of Wren's twin brother hunched over long wax candles, breathing a steady stream of flame upon their wicks. He walked around the room in an arch, revealing the pillared, circular chamber Roland lay in the middle of as he went. Now Roland could see his bonds, the brown leather pulled taut around everything, and his helmet and satchel laying on the floor beside the platform. His eyes flicked around the room, searching for any means of escape, but the only things he could see were the large oaken door far behind him, shut and probably locked up, and the curtained glass windows on either side.

Brenton's fire disclosed the locations of the other Guardians, the earth and wind dragons standing upon a set of stairs, both smiling and cuddling with each other. Panicking and looking further, his eyes fell upon the darkened, beaten form of Wren, locked in tight chains against the wall, his mouth muzzled up like he was some kind of hound. Roland realised he was wearing the same thing and once again tried to snap it open.

"There is no point in trying to break it," Brenton said. "That leather is reinforced. You'll never get it undone."

Roland looked at the fire Guardian once, then very quickly went back to trying to break free. Brenton sighed, muttered something along the lines of 'kids,' and walked to the stone surface. Roland thought he heard the earth Guardian, Trevena, giggle to herself, probably at his struggle, but he couldn't be sure.

Brenton peered over his pregnable form, imposing body towering over the red dragon. With wide eyes, Roland stared into the fire Guardian's nonchalant gaze, a wetness bubbling over his own.

"I thought the time dragon would be more than this." Brenton shook his head, disappointed in that fact for some reason. "But you're barely even capable. And look at this... this fragile body."

Brenton latched his paw onto Roland's right leg and squeezed the weak muscle with what felt like all of his might. Roland wanted to cry out in pain, but the muzzle restrained his noise.

"Pathetic. Why were we fretful about you? You're barely even a dragon."

Brenton let go, giving Roland a short moment to rest, then lifted a paw. His gleaming claws were a muted orange. They hovered around Roland's torso; Roland clenched his tearful eyes shut, tensing for more agony.

"You..." Brenton lowered his paw upon the red dragon's chest, scraping heated claws along soft scales. There was a small hiss, but it was barely audible over the red dragon's muffled sobs. Tears streamed down the sides of Roland's head, pooling on the stone platform. A wet warmth trickled down his chest as Brenton slowly grazed his scales. He stopped before he reached the end of the bound dragon's stomach. "How can you even be called the time dragon? What can you do besides shooting crystals?"

"Don't hurt him too much. We still need him," Trevena called from the other end of the room. Roland would've been glad to hear that, but he wasn't naïve to her true intentions. She wanted to slice him up just as much.

Why were they hurting him? Why were they putting him through this?

Why hadn't they killed him yet?

Something about Brenton's expression wavered. He put a paw to the shaking dragon's forehead and shut his eyes.

"You're... You're wondering why we haven't killed you already?"

Roland did his best to nod through his sobs.

"That's depressing, young dragon. I wouldn't expect that out of somebody like you. I thought you would've liked to live."

Roland wasn't sure how to answer that in his current state, nor did he want to. No matter his answer, they would end up killing him anyway. He was as good as _dead_. All they were doing was torturing him before that. For pleasure or for whatever reason, he didn't know. Were they trying to break him? Was this a game to them?

"No, no, young dragon," Brenton said. Roland had never witnessed this kind of mind magic before, this reading of his thoughts. Telepathy was one thing, but this was on a different level. "I wouldn't say you're as good as dead yet. You can help us by freeing the wyverns early. It came to my attention not long ago that you're able to make them grow instantaneously with your magic. Usually they would take a month to hatch, but using you, we can speed up the process of them, just like you have the others. That's about all you're good for. After that, we can release you... or you can die. Whichever one you prefer. It won't matter in the end. You're going to hell either way."

He'd made the wyverns grow up? How had he done that? He'd unintentionally helped the Guardians?

No, that couldn't be true...

"Yes. Something about your magical aura reacts with them and makes them grow, like they're absorbing your mana. Or so that's what I've heard. Very useful, indeed."

He didn't want to listen, but so much of this made sense to him. The pound of the eggs growing more swift as he edged closer, then exploding in a sea of white as he stood before them. They'd been eating up his mana without him realising it.

If only he'd known...

All this meant that those cheetahs who'd tried to capture him earlier had been bluffing about killing him. They didn't actually want him dead. Roland's mind spun and spiralled, working itself to process this information while he cried.

Why would they think like this? Why would they believe in what they did?

"Why do you believe in things _you_ do, Roland?"

Nothing they thought was true. There was no world after this. The Black Horror would consume everything. All life would come to a halt when the magic ran out.

"And like a flower, new life will blossom," Brenton said. "There's no questioning that. A new age for dragonkind's most perfect will begin. Everyone will be happy. Negativity will be a thing of the past."

How was that in any way at all unquestionable? How _delusional_ was this orange dragon?

Brenton growled before wrapping a paw around Roland's throat, his fangs bared. Roland gasped and spluttered before Brenton started to squeeze. Roland choked and gagged.

"I am _not_ delusional! This is _prophesied_!" Brenton dug his nails into Roland's neck, drawing blood. Roland felt the world darkening, lungs starved for oxygen, the searing pain in his chest and neck rendering his mind awash. The Guardian noticed this before hesitantly stopping, breathing a calming sigh. Roland coughed into the muzzle, felt vomit rising in his throat like an exhalation. "This is meant to be. This is what Malefor would want. You are the factor that ruins his desires. You're not supposed to exist. You are unnatural. A demon. A monster."

Roland tried not to think. He just choked and sobbed into his leathery muffler.

"A monster that we can utilise, however. I won't put you out of your misery. Before we put you to use in releasing the wyverns, though, we have another idea for you. We can use you before that."

Roland grunted, wondering what on earth the orange dragon was considering. He looked around again, hoping desperately for an escape somewhere, but all his eyes landed on was Wren's bruised form in the corner. He was awake now, rattling the chains around as he tried to break free. Green embers danced around glowing emerald-like gemstones fitted into the chains. Roland could feel Wren's powerful magic in the air, fuelled by his rage, but every last bit evaporated before it could take form.

He'd seen that magic before. Those green gems devoured the mana right out of a dragon, one of the only inventions from the apes still used to this day. He'd worn something like them before in the Firemore dungeons, but back then, he hadn't been able to feel his magic whatsoever, so it hadn't mattered.

His magic... He had his magic still. Could he use that to escape his bonds? Maybe if he could get the paw magic to not shatter in his paws, he could summon a sharp crystal and slash himself free.

But he'd need a distraction for that. Brenton was right there in front of him.

If only he had his friends...

Were Myrtle and Tris even still alive?

Roland had lost too much of his optimism to believe they were at this point. He shut his eyes. In pain, both mental and physical, Roland wept into the muzzle.

"Now, Wren..." Iris started as she parted from her mate and walked towards him. Trevena followed, a wicked grin revealing those keen fangs. "We're... going to need you, too. I'm sorry if you don't enjoy this, but we need your dragons. With your blood, they'll be strong and avid followers."

Roland couldn't help but frown in confusion. What were they trying to say? Wren's _dragons_?

"We're going to use you and Wren to create armies of dragons," Brenton said. "Wren will provide the sperm, the female Guardians the eggs, and you will provide the time magic to make the eggs swell quicker than light inside of Trevena and Iris. They will follow us into the new world. The original plan was to sway the city to our side, but this... this could be much, _much_ easier."

Roland's eyes gaped like ravines, his attention shifting to the ice dragon shaking his head and trying to snap free. All Wren managed to do was fall onto his side, and because the chains gripped him with such an unbelievable tightness, he couldn't get back up again; all he could do was wait to be pounced upon by the dragonesses.

As Trevena got near, she laughed at Wren's pitiful form and put her face next to his. Wren grunted into his muzzle, probably meant to be an insult to the earth Guardian, but it was understood by nobody.

"Oh, you want to say something?" Trevena asked. She gripped his mouth and tore the muzzle straight off his face. Wren spat into the ground, a glob of red that he clearly couldn't get out of his mouth before.

"Young dragon..." Wren croaked, then he started to splutter. It took Roland a moment to realise he was being talked to. "I-I'm s-sorry about my brother and... a-all this. I-I shouldn't have... g-gotten you mixed up in it. I needed a t-time dragon, one I could train to... to freeze the purple dragon away forever. And no... I-I never saw anything in the pool of visions. I m-made it all up. I-I used you like you were j-just an element..."

The red dragon wasn't even sure how to respond to that. All of this had just been rendered totally pointless. Learning time magic, even just coming to Shimmervale... They should've kept far away from the Guardians. They should've kept going to Warfang.

"I-if it means anything now," the blue dragon continued, "I-I'm... s-sorry."

Roland didn't care anymore. His life was over. Why would he care about anything now?

"Are you done?" Iris asked, trailing a sensual claw down the blue dragon's stomach. "Can we begin?"

Trevena grinned as she turned around for Wren and lifted her tail. "Oh, I think so, honey. You don't need to ask..."

And then, as if hope had been watching over Roland like some kind of guardian, the window on the left smashed, glass twinkling like polished knives as it sprayed through the air. There came something like a pent-up gag from Iris' direction before the wind Guardian lurched forward and fell on top of Trevena.

"I-Iris?" Trevena muttered. She turned the dragoness' head over and saw the sizeable hole drilled into the back of her skull, the insides mutilated beyond belief. "N-no..."

Roland looked back up at the window, this miracle sparking a new blaze inside of him. Through the window, like a graceful bird of prey, came the dreadwing he'd grown to adore, Ashlyn riding atop him, piloting him towards the floor.

"Over there!" she yelled, pointing to the older dragons. "Scream, Fluffy!"

Fluffy followed without a moment of pause, the quietude once only snapped by Roland's cries now shattered by the song of the dreadwing. Fluffy's eyes locked with Roland's, and when that happened, something seemed to snap in Fluffy's gaze. When the next scream came forth, the air around his mouth whipped with red particles, fear magic solidified.

The leftover Guardians couldn't take such a thing. Trevena curled into a ball of stone to hide from the scream. Brenton took it even worse and charged away, colliding with and breaking through the other window. Roland looked up in glee and tears, rattling his chains to get their attention.

"Down there!" another voice called, one Roland felt he recognised but couldn't place a claw on. It was too muffled to make out. He looked at Fluffy and saw yet another figure atop the dreadwing's back, a green-cloaked figure in a shining metal mask. He was almost scared for a second, but when he acknowledged the gun held in the cheetah's metallic paw, he realised it was that same figure who'd saved him before.

Fluffy landed upon the stone next to Roland, the floor quaking beneath his feet. He kept momentarily screaming in the direction of the balled earth. Trevena trembled in fright, the dreadwing's magic overpowering her senses.

Ashlyn and the hooded cheetah jumped off of Fluffy and rushed to Roland's aid. Roland sighed into his muzzle. Ashlyn, a glint of fury in her eyes, tore the muffler off Roland's face and immediately got to work slashing away the bonds with the cheetah.

"Ancestors... I'm so glad you're okay," she said. The moonlight now pouring into the room made those sapphires of hers twinkle. "I-I'm glad everybody's okay..."

"Myrtle and Tris? They're alright, too?" He wiped a paw over his eyes as soon as it was freed from captivity. He started slicing away the leather cuffs as well when he was capable.

"Yes." The cheetah nodded. "They're alright. We found them first. They went for the docks to prepare Alevor and the ship. They wanted to follow, but with a dreadwing, Ashlyn and I knew we would be okay."

"I... I recognise your voice." Roland got up as soon as he was able. "Who are you?"

"Harper."

What? That couldn't be right. Roland staggered backwards a little, his maw agape. He thought he wouldn't ever see him again, especially not so soon...

"There's no time to explain here," Harper said, throwing the mask on his face to the floor. There was no mistaking it. Roland knew those yellow eyes, that old fur. Harper climbed aboard the dreadwing, his loathing for the monster abnormally vanquished in this moment. Like he realised he'd been wrong about Fluffy. "We need to leave. I'll explain on the way."

"Come on!" Ashlyn called, waving a claw at Roland. "Hop on, Roland! Fluffy's faster."

Roland looked over at Wren, who stared over at him in guilt. The blue dragon just closed his eyes. He'd already accepted his fate. "What about Wren?"

Everybody looked at the ice dragon. He noticed their stares and sighed. "Th-these chains won't ever come off a-and I'm t-too... too weak to fly or run. Leave me here. It's... It's what I deserve anyway."

Roland wasn't really sure if there was a point in caring. That dragon had lied to him over and over again, prodded at his dreams, made him happy only to tear it away like a rotten scab. If anything, Roland knew he was better off hating him and leaving him in this chamber to rot.

Yet he felt bad anyway. Unfortunately for Wren, there was nothing that could be done.

Roland didn't waste another second, earholes beginning to flare over the beast's constant screaming. He jumped atop Fluffy after grabbing his helmet and satchel off the floor, squeezing into the space between the cheetah and the blue dragoness, and with a powerful leap, Fluffy took off. He shot like a star into the moonlit yonder, leaving the dead Guardian, the trembling ball of earth, and the lying teacher behind.

Everything was quiet. The panic had quelled, vanquished by his friends and Harper. The spire he'd been held captive inside faded with the rest of the district it'd been perched upon, the highest of them all.

The air was cold on Roland's scales; the burnt scraping of claws stung because of it, as did his bloodshot eyes. He relished in the air, however. He was beyond thankful to be out.

"Thanks..." Roland said lowly. "I... Thanks a lot, Ash. I-I don't really know what to say."

"Y-you don't have to say anything," she murmured back. "I'm just happy you're okay."

Roland sniffed, eyes wet once again. He looked down at the paws he had gripped around Fluffy's hair as a hold, then back to the foggy sky. Despite all odds, the blue dragoness had gone after him again and managed to find him. She'd risked her life once more to save him.

Roland lifted his front legs and wrapped them around the dragoness, making sure he didn't press too hard into the small spines lining her back. She tensed up. Holding her there consumed the grief and the trauma, ate it all away, left him feeling so much cleaner.

She'd go through hell, just for him, unconditionally. It was odd to be cared for like that. Roland didn't know if he deserved that much.

"R-Roland?" She looked back at him, expression a mixture of confusion, worry, and surprise. "Are you...?"

"Yeah," he muttered, pulling away from her. Warmth rushed to his face. He managed a short chuckle. "S-sorry. I just..."

"No. It's okay." She smiled, its faint outline infectious to the red dragon. His heart pumped in his chest. Something about her made him feel things he never thought he'd experience.

He would've said something about that feeling to her, but Harper was behind him right now. He'd rather not talk about it with other company.

"Oh, yeah..." Roland turned to face the cheetah. "What's up with you, Harper? Can you... explain _everything_?"

"It's a long–"

The cheetah's ears pricked up, snout twitching. Roland frowned at Harper, unable to understand why he'd so suddenly stopped. Harper looked down, but before Roland could follow his eyes, Fluffy bucked hard.

Roland and Ashlyn lost their grip on the dreadwing, and Harper held on by a thread of hair. Out of instinct, Roland started flapping his wings, bringing his mid-air rolling to a halt. His dreadwing was spiralling out of control, and right below him, form ablaze like the incarnation of a demon, was Warfang's Guardian of fire.

Roland was too stunned to make a choice; Brenton grabbed onto Roland with flaming paws. The red dragon cried out, scales brought to the boil in just the presence of the Guardian. Then, with a powerful dive, the Guardian charged into the nearest building in a searing comet dash.

Wood and stone smashed and splintered, the roof falling apart at the seams. Brenton hit the floor in an explosion of fire and rubble. Like a charred rag doll, Roland flew across the room. He hit the floor and tumbled.

When he smacked into the wall and opened his eyes, everything twisted in a vibrant swirl of orange and grey. He tried to get to his feet, wondering how he'd even survived, and tripped over his own footing when he stepped on a broken leg. He clutched his injuries – everything at once, everything that was burnt and his unusable leg – in an attempt to apply pressure, yet it only worsened the agony. He relied on adrenaline to keep him going. Roland gathered all of his resolve and limped forward.

His vision wanted to clear, but the smoke in the air made his tear ducts flow again. His heart stopped for a moment when he looked up. Fire tore through the ceiling's timber beams, sent debris and embers hurtling to the ground like an ashen hailstorm. Roland didn't waste another moment – he suppressed all the pain he could and just tried to leave it all behind.

"You're not getting away from me that _easily._ "

Roland turned his head to see Brenton struggling through the flames himself, his fiery figure the cause. As he did, he noticed Fluffy and the others land through the hole, Harper with his gun raised, Ashlyn with her fangs bared. Fluffy's back hunched lower than usual. He gasped and snorted, thin lines of blood coagulating with the hair where Brenton had stabbed him with his horns in his reckless charge.

Harper pulled his trigger first, but the elementally charged bullet that shot forth wasn't enough, Brenton's fiery aura turning it to but a cinder. Ashlyn tried to unleash an icicle. Her ice melted almost as soon as it was created. Fluffy didn't look to be capable of a scream right now. Roland's friends weren't able to assist and, as the flaming roof collapsed around them, proved further incapable when they were cut off to the red dragon. He heard Ashlyn scream his name, but it was lost to the roaring fire.

As if Brenton were the spawn of hell itself, Roland backed off, through the doorway before his feet could catch alight. He spluttered on the smoke, the tears it summoned pricking at the corners of his eyes. Brenton advanced, his narrowed glare a gaze of pure, molten gold. Roland glanced around the room and tried to slow him down by pushing a nearby plywood table in front of him, but Brenton only crushed it beneath his fiery feet.

Roland's lungs compressed for air, but they only drew the smoke. He coughed again, trying his best to run from the infernal dragon on only three feet. He stumbled into a large circular hall, through rows and rows of chairs quickly bursting into flames.

"If I can't have you, then I'll destroy you," Brenton said. His voice seemed to distort, wavering like the flames he bred.

Roland scanned the great hall, chest thumping, lungs squeezing for the slightest amount of clean air. The stage was already on fire and the curtains of the windows charred and glowed with heat. Then he looked up, originally trying to find an escape, but found a chandelier instead hanging by a thread rope, untouched by the fire.

He had a plan. It was insane and there was almost no chance it would work. But he had one.

"P-please work..." he muttered to himself as he ran forward, stopping just before the stage. He closed his eyes, held his breath, and brought forth his magic, trying to ignore the crackling fire and the sweat dripping from his body.

He couldn't tell if the orange glow was there, the light of the fire breathing through his eyelids, yet he didn't need to. He felt the coldness in there, in stark contrast to the rest of his body, and pushed it all to his leg.

He'd failed last time because he forced it. This time, he had to relax. It was hard to do that when he couldn't breathe properly.

It crept up his leg, hovered around his claw tips, and that was when he knew he was ready. He opened his eyelids once again and stared into the golden gaze of the demon. When Brenton was beneath the chandelier, Roland gently pushed forward, focusing deeply on the Guardian's paws.

Almost akin to Wren's magic, orange crystals rose from the ground at his feet and trapped the fire Guardian. Brenton studied his paws, then looked back up at Roland, and seemed to almost go to laugh at him.

Roland wasn't focused on that, though. He brought forth the time mana again, up into his throat. He aimed for the rope holding the chandelier and fired a crystal straight towards it. It snapped, the crystal flying straight past it and shattering against the wall on the other side of the hall. The chandelier, unaffected by the time magic because the crystal didn't stay close or shatter against it, fell.

"You think your damn time magic is going to–"

Glass, metal, and fire went everywhere as it smashed into Brenton's skull. The fire Guardian stumbled over. Roland, eyes widening in opportunity, dashed forward when the flames around the stunned monster quelled, just like his conscious mind.

 _Do not hesitate_.

Roland raised a paw and dug his claws into Brenton's neck. He ripped out his throat.

 _It's that easy_.

Roland stepped back, looking over the wide-eyed Guardian in fear. Brenton grabbed onto his neck, almost tried to draw the red spurting from the fatal wound back into his throat. Of course, it was of no use.

Within a few moments, Brenton hunched over and died.

Roland looked at his paws, uncaring for the blaze. He peered down at his drenched foot, clenched it, felt and heard it squelch. He fell to his hindquarters, his breath held still, tears pouring down his face.

There was fear for a long while. Pain and hurt. But after just staring at the body, he calmed down. He'd ended the Guardian. He'd actually killed someone. The weird part was that he'd _wanted_ to.

"...land! _Roland_!"

Roland sniffed, unable to tear his eyes away from the corpse. It wasn't like killing an animal. That'd become easy. Killing another person, though...

He didn't really know what to think. It'd happened so fast. It'd been a thoughtless action, almost as though it'd come from feral instinct alone. It was... different to Garv, though. It hadn't been like he hadn't desired too, nor was keeping Brenton alive ever his intention. It'd seemed like the right choice before he'd done it, but now he felt odd. Almost empty, despite the tears in his eyes. Emotionless. He still felt the adrenaline in his veins, but other than that, there was nothing.

What had Firemore done to him?

"Roland!" he heard Ashlyn cry again. He managed to peel his eyes away from Brenton. Ashlyn, flecked in soot, scoured the smoke and rubble in search of him. As her eyes met his, she gasped in relief, only to choke on the ashen air. She charged after him and he turned his gaze away. "Roland! Y-you're okay! Y-you're..."

She stopped right beside him, her maw pulled open. Roland looked up at her. He was unsure what to say or do, or if he even wanted to do anything.

"R-Roland..." She stretched a paw towards him, giving Brenton's lifeless body a sidelong glance. It landed softly on his side. Her eyes showed hurt, but not her own. For him. She knew quite clearly how he felt. "W-we... We need to go. This place is burning down. I-if we don't leave, we'll suffocate."

"Yeah," he replied, getting up. The flames roared around him, the ceiling creaking and cracking with each elapsing second. He'd be left to burn in this inferno with the monster if he stayed. That was reason enough to get a move on. "Let's go. Where are the others?"

"Outside," Ashlyn said. She pulled her head back and aimed for one of the thin glass windows. An icicle flew forth and smashed right through it. She leaped into the burning air, gesturing with a claw. "C-come on!"

Roland sighed, averting his eyes from the demon's bloodied corpse, and followed her through the window.

* * *

"Get aboard! We need to leave!" Alevor yelled.

Roland came to a halt with Ashlyn before the blacksmith. Fluffy and Harper were moments behind. They couldn't ride the beast because of his injuries and Roland had a broken leg, so they hadn't been able to move as swiftly as they would've liked. Not that it seemed to matter much. In spite of everyone's panic to get on the ship, it was actually peaceful at the docks. The only sound other than the calling of Myrtle and Tristana aboard the boat was the wavering sea, bubbling against the pier, and the creak of the ship in the water. There was nobody after them, or at least that they could tell. They'd steered clear of those cheetahs and the dragon guard.

Alevor jogged up to the ship, followed by the four that'd run from the high districts. He gripped a single-edged blade in his gloved hand and cut away at the ship's ropes, wound around wooden pillars nailed to the pier. Roland, with the help of Ashlyn, jumped aboard the ship, meeting with Myrtle and Tris who'd been awaiting them.

"Thank the fuckin' Ancestors you're okay," Myrtle said, placing a paw upon his shoulder. "I thought you were a goner."

"D-don't!" he cried back, a sharp pain stabbing through his leg when she placed it atop his shoulder. Quickly, she withdrew it, eyes meeting the twisted leg in worry. "S-sorry. Brenton broke my leg. I-it really hurts."

"Fuck, Roland..." Myrtle shook her head. "S-sorry..."

"We have spirit gems on board," Tris exclaimed, running to the captain's room where the wheel for steering lay. There was a mechanism inside there, a vibrating hunk of yellow metal attached to a pulling cable. Beside the whirring device was a small box of spirit gems. Roland wondered how Alevor had gotten spirit gems into a place like this, but from the looks of the permit on the wall, Alevor was allowed to have a limited supply to power his ship. Tris gathered the gemstones and rushed back to Roland.

The red dragon crushed them beneath his paw, felt his bone twist and mangle for an agonising moment, before the limb stitched itself back together. There was still a painful throb there and he wasn't going to walk on it, but it would heal up in due time.

For a moment, everything seemed like it was going well. Then, out of nowhere, like a pack of starved vultures, cloaked cheetahs leaped from the shadows and sprinted for their prey, the time dragon. Roland knew he'd jinxed himself and he hated himself for it.

Harper pulled his rifle from the holster beneath his green cloak and started trying to pick them off from a distance while Alevor rushed to the captain's quarters. When Roland heard a gunshot whizz by his head, he kept to the cover the captain's room provided from gunfire, and his friends followed his lead. Fluffy tried to let something out akin to a scream, but it came as more of a whimper than anything. Roland comfortingly rubbed a paw down his thick coat of hair.

"Don't worry. I'll fix you up soon."

The boat bucked when Alevor slammed his foot down on the accelerator, then took off, slicing through the moonlit sea, rushing into the fog. Like rain, gunfire battered the metal hull, all focused on where Roland lay, but the ship was far too sturdy for elementally-charged projectiles to cut through. Roland noticed Ashlyn trying to return fire with her icicles, although the point in that was lost as they got further and further away from the city of dragons.

Roland thought, for a single moment, that this chapter of their journey might've just finished. He felt they might be safe.

"Keep your eyes peeled!" Alevor called over the thrum of the engine. "We'll disappear into the fog, but I'll bet my hammer they'll find their own ships and chase after us!"

As the minutes passed, however, the signs of them were lost. Alevor eventually cut the engine off, letting the gale and the sea push their boat along, to keep their noise level to a minimum. Harper mounted his rifle atop the ship's railing, Myrtle stood close to Tristana, and Ashlyn slowly paced over to Roland, her muzzle quivering. Fluffy continued to murmur in pain, guilt stabbing at Roland's heart.

Roland's chest thumped. He half-expected the cheetahs to plough through the fog and slam into their ship, but it didn't seem to come.

Then he heard it. The hum of another engine, distant, nearly inaudible. He saw a beam of light through the mist, a predator searching for its prey. Roland kept a paw to his muzzle, hoping they didn't get closer. Fortunately, it seemed to pass right by them. His hopes were dashed when he heard another, but took form once more when the second disappeared past them as well.

Quiet, unsettling minutes ticked on. But, as quickly as the scouting ships soared straight past them, they disappeared and were never heard from again.

"I think... we're in the clear," Roland murmured to the blue dragoness.

Ashlyn gritted her teeth. "D-don't say that, Roland."

In spite of everything, he managed a smile at that one. Her light humour, even if she hadn't been trying to make a joke, always made him want to chuckle.

Harper rested his tense paws, letting out an almost relieved sigh. "I believe we are okay now."

"Let's hope..." Myrtle draped a wing over Tristana, seeing just how much she was quivering. "You okay, Tris?"

"Tonight's been... s-something else," the yellow dragoness said. "First the cheetahs throw us in a cell, then Harper, and now... a-all this."

The cheetah got up, his rifle still held firmly between his paws. He didn't dare put it away, for fear of the cloaked figures coming back. The sight of him there with a gun in paws sent images through Roland's head again, though, of the time in the Everlost Forest. Harper looked at Roland and pulled down the hood covering his eyes.

"I... ought to explain myself," Harper said. Tris looked up with eager eyes, like she didn't know much about his return, either. "What I did back in the forest... I wasn't thinking clearly. I put my own feelings above everything else, drunk myself almost to death, and then decided it was a good idea to pull a gun on Roland. I thought at that moment he was against the world and working with the purple dragon. Mostly because of the dreadwing."

Harper's grip around his weapon loosened. He let its barrel thud against the wooden floor of the ship. There was nothing Roland was expecting any less tonight than to hear an apology out of Harper's mouth.

"Clearly, I was incorrect. When I woke up, Darryl and Kaya spoke to me, and I realised you weren't bad to begin with. So, I sought out to set things right. I've been watching over all of you for four days now, and I was unsure how to approach you. The choice was obviously made for me tonight."

Harper stopped for a moment. Soon, he sighed once more. "If it means anything at all, I'm sorry. I... I know it doesn't. And if I'm being honest, you four, I don't want you to forgive me. I've made the wrong choices time and time again. I've been given far too many chances to better my behaviour, yet I was only ever concerned with myself. I barely even considered you a person, Tris. For that, I am scum. I'm no father."

Tris opened her mouth, but she didn't know what to say. Eventually, she just lowered her head and kept silent.

"My ways have been less than stellar," Harper said. "I was hoping you might let me help you, but after all of this, I don't expect you to. The things I've done..."

Roland knew, if anything, that he didn't want the cheetah helping them. He'd come in the nick of time to save him and was protecting them for now, but there was no way in hell he could ever trust him again.

Roland didn't know if he could start trusting another _person_ again. He'd been wronged so many times now. First Ashlyn (whom he had forgiven with time), then Harper, and then Wren...

It was all too much. He'd gone through enough for dozens of lifetimes.

When Roland looked around him, everybody seemed just as wary as him, especially the green dragoness. Even Tristana had that look of scepticism about her, though relentlessly mixed with the expression of realisation and confusion.

"Harper," Ashlyn started, "I... I-I'm sorry, but I think I speak for us all when I say you've done too much. Y-you shot Roland... He could've _died_ and was about to when we got him back. I never would've... If anything had happened to him..."

Myrtle nodded. Tristana stayed silent. Even Fluffy stopped whimpering to listen. Alevor seemed ignorant of the conversation, more focused on steering the boat slowly through the fog.

"If Roland had died, I doubt I'd even be here," Myrtle kept Ashlyn's train of thought going. Roland's heart sank. She hadn't really just said that, had she? Was he worth her _life_? "He's a big part of what's kept me goin'. You almost took that from me. And you almost took me with him, too. _"_

In spite of his previous words, Harper wore his hurt, however subtle it was, the small flicker of hope inside him dying. "Understandable."

"Harper..." Tris muttered. Harper raised his head to meet her eyes. "Look, I... I still love you, okay? You're still my dad. Don't say you aren't a father. You've just... done the wrong thing. You can still do better."

"I don't want you to consider me as such," he replied, averting his golden orbs. "You... You have a real family now. A family of friends that love you, that have done better than I ever have. Be proud of them and yourself. I'm not worthy of the 'dad' title..."

Harper sat back down again, pushing his knees against his chest, his back to the railing.

"I couldn't save my wife. I couldn't save my damn son. And when you were all I had left, I pushed you away and didn't treat you like a daughter. You meant a lot to me, but in the wrong way." Harper folded his arms and placed them atop his bent knees. He pushed his forehead against them. "Maybe I can do better in the future, but I know I can't be forgiven. I've ruined all the chances the Ancestors have given me."

Tris closed her mouth, her eyes settling on the planks. Harper sighed, looking at her once more. When Roland looked at him closely, he thought he could see the elusive shine of tears in his eyes.

"It's... It doesn't matter, really." Harper shrugged. "I might've come to set things right, but I also wanted to apologise to you, Tris. For everything I've done. I just... just want you to know that I'm really happy for you. I'm proud of you."

Roland didn't really know what to think about him anymore. He looked over at Tris, waiting for some kind of reaction, but she only huddled up with Myrtle, kept her glimmering eyes closed. Harper had been genuine, Roland could tell, but he didn't know if he could ever forgive the cheetah.

Maybe if he gave it time, like the time he'd given Ashlyn.

Suddenly, the boat lurched and everyone fell forward. Wood exploded into splinters, a missile made of green magic having slammed into the deck. Roland, bewildered by the attack out of nowhere, scanned the skies, searching for their predator.

Following them was the Guardian of earth, green embers spiralling around her like she was a living tornado. Her eyes were set in a hateful glare, her bared teeth like daggers. She _radiated_ hate.

Like she'd missed before, another earthen projectile flew out of her maw, bigger and faster, and headed straight for the cheetah that had killed her mate. Harper's opportunity to dodge never came, his focus set on keeping his balance. It smashed straight through his chest.

Without so much as a grunt, Harper collided with the wall of the ship and slumped over, his heart decimated in no more than an instant

Tristana broke free of Myrtle's grip and screamed his name, but the noise never fully reached Roland's ears, for yet another projectile struck the deck in an explosion of timber. Roland was too busy staring at the cheetah's corpse to notice the blast of earth heading straight for him.

Ashlyn, like all those times, saved him yet again by diving into him and rolling with him across the ship. Roland was too stunned to even notice she'd done that and almost too confused to notice the thrum of the engine. They blasted forth at top speed again, the earth dragoness in hot pursuit.

She was going to kill them all. Roland stared at her, wide-eyed, then back at Harper's body. Tristana tried to shake him, like she was trying to wake him up, but there was nothing left of his soul. A large, gaping hole had been punched right through his chest, the metal armour beneath the cloak having not been enough to save him from the wrath of the furious Guardian.

There were sparks dancing along Tristana's body.

There came yet another projectile, but this time Myrtle struck it out of the air with a well-timed blast of earth magic. Roland wasn't sure what to do. He just held onto Ashlyn, hoping everything would turn out okay, feeling sick and confused.

Then a sobbing Tristana got up and turned to face their aggressor. Electricity arced along her form, humming, jolting, zapping each other. She paced to the edge of the boat. She drew her heard back, closed her eyes.

As she pushed it forward again, she screamed into the air. A bolt of uncontrollable lightning exploded from her mouth, a pure white arcing mass of power.

It totally missed the target. The Guardian of earth dodged it with ease. But Roland soon realised he was far too quick to judge. Like she'd summoned a storm itself, twin bolts of electricity struck the Guardian from above with a clap of thunder.

And the fury didn't stop there. Tristana held her paw out, entire body twitching in her rage, and kept the lightning centred on her. Trevena wailed as she went up in blue flames. The blinding flash made Roland jerk his head away.

Only a couple moments later, Trevena's flesh and bone melted and turned to nothing but ash. Tristana cut the magic off when she knew she'd done it. Smoke plumed from her scales. She gasped for air, every last bit of her power drained on the Guardian.

Roland didn't know how to comprehend what he'd just witnessed. Like one of her bolts of lightning, it'd happened in a flash.

Tristana's legs buckled and she buried her face deep into her paws. Her whole body shook with her wailing. Myrtle was swift to approach, even with how visibly bewildered she was. Alevor looked back at everyone, panting and hacking on dust particles. Roland first peered at Ashlyn, who didn't know what to do, then at Fluffy, who'd been cowering in the captain's quarters all this time.

The engine shut off. Roland gave a sideways glance to Harper's body, then approached the yellow dragoness with Ashlyn, Alevor, and even the dreadwing. They sat down with her and did whatever they could to help her, but there wasn't exactly much they could do. Even Myrtle's hug wasn't enough to calm her.

But it was all they could do. She'd killed someone, just like Roland had. And she'd lost a father tonight.

Life was cruel and, if any night proved that, this was the one.


	37. Lost to the Sea

Lost to the Sea

For once, when Roland decided to get up, Fluffy didn't complain, if only because this was one of the rare times the dreadwing had dozed off. Roland assumed it was to heal his injuries – those twisted, gory holes punched into his stomach were more harmful than Roland had originally suspected. At first, they'd only seemed like minor wounds, but by the time Tristana had calmed, Fluffy was swaying and about to pass out from a loss of blood, and had done so a few minutes later. Thankfully, they'd had bandages on board to fix him up and now he rested soundly.

Roland wasn't too concerned about him now. He had another problem. His eyelids were black and wrinkled with his exhaustion, but even into the early morning, they didn't allow him rest. No amount of tossing and turning blessed him with the sleep he desired. Even though his body and mind knew he needed it, sadistically, they kept him wide awake all night. He was on his own to listen to the sound of the prow slice through the waves, thoughts surging through his head like jolts of energy.

Roland looked behind him as he left the captain's quarters, where everybody had laid out their bedrolls. It was the only roofed part of the ship, other than below the deck, but nobody had wanted to sleep in that dark, musty space. He needed a breath of fresh air, a look upon the horizon now that the fog had cleared.

Roland glided across the deck to the prow of the ship, down the stairs and around the hastily patched-up crevices the earth missiles had created. He stopped before the railing at the front, ran a paw through the crimson frills atop his head, and then rested his forelegs upon the metal barrier.

He took a breath of the salty air, his nose tingling at the sensation, and relaxed to the gentle sway of the ship cutting through the waves. He pressed his jaw onto his paws and peered into the sunrise out to the east, to the radiant, wavering half-circle sitting just above the shimmering sea. The ocean was clear – not a speck of land in sight. Dante's Freezer was a ways off yet. He was at least glad to be on his way now.

He could've gotten there earlier, he knew. On day one of Shimmervale, maybe, if they'd just asked Alevor about it. Of course, that might've been a little too early for the atlawa, but the thought harassed him anyway.

This was the kind of thing keeping him up. Everything in Shimmervale had been for nought. Roland couldn't stop kicking himself over that. It was _all_ his fault because, yet again, he'd blindly trusted someone, naïve to their true intentions. Wren had only ever wanted to teach him how to freeze Drevon away for good. Roland knew he should've suspected that from the beginning.

In fact, he _had_! He told himself over and over to be sceptical and he was, and yet he fell for all of that anyway.

He was a total pushover. He'd listen to _anybody_. He'd believe something that _Brenton_ would've lied about.

Roland's paws tightened around the railing. He'd put all of his friends in danger for nothing. There was no gain to be had in Shimmervale. He didn't give a shit about his time magic anymore. If it wouldn't help him save Drevon, he didn't care about it.

His magic was an enemy to him. He wished he could just rip it out of himself, wished he could tear out his potenthalus and throw it overboard, lose it to the sea.

Maybe he should've just jumped overboard altogether. Drevon deserved a better friend than him. In all ways, Roland felt useless, even harmful, to the journey. He wasn't sure if it was worth caring if _he_ got to Drevon or not. As soon as he found Drevon, Roland was sure he'd fuck something up like he always had.

He peered over the railing, into the dark, bubbling depths calling his name. He thought about it for a moment, didn't instantly shoot the idea down this time.

He knew it was a 'no' eventually. He didn't think he had the guts. If he did that, he'd also just make his friends upset...

What was even the point in caring about him in the first place?

Roland breathed a sharp breath through his nostrils, his chest tightening with anger, at himself and at his friends. Why did they even call him a fucking friend? He'd almost sent them unto death back in Shimmervale. They could've actually _died_ because of him because he didn't take a moment to think. Because he didn't properly consider the consequences. Because he was too selfish.

Roland wanted to hit something. He wanted to hit this railing so hard he broke his leg again.

And so he did. He smacked it with as much force as he could, like he was trying to punch a hole through the steel. It clanged against his fist. A spike of agony rushed through the leg he'd just recently broken and he fell to his knees, growling, gritting his teeth.

Despite that, he wanted to do it more. Again and again. He wanted to smash his head against that railing and knock himself out. At least then he'd go to sleep.

Yet now, he didn't get up. He didn't feel like moving anymore. He just clutched his flaring leg to his breast, clenched his teeth together, and shut his eyes tight.

He just wanted to _sleep_!

Only when the pain lessened did Roland finally lift himself off the floor and prop himself up on the railing again, this time his eyes wet with tears, his muzzle quivering.

Roland stood there for a long time, snorting, the tears running down his face.

He... He needed to calm down and think properly. He shouldn't have been trying to hurt himself...

For a moment, that pain had felt pretty good. It'd felt worthwhile. He'd wanted it _again_.

What was he becoming?

"R-Roland?"

Roland felt forced to turn his gaze slightly to look at Ashlyn, who rubbed at an eye.

"What are you doing up? It's not even six o'clock..."

He sighed, turning away from her to mask the tears on his face. Smacking the metal must've woken her up. He didn't realise how shaky his breaths were. Hearing that seemed to wake Ashlyn up a little.

"A-are you okay?" she asked, rushing towards him, those tired eyes widening. "D-did something happen? Is–"

"I'm fine," he butted in. "I'm... I'm fine. Don't worry."

"R-Roland, please don't start this," she murmured. "You know how annoying it is. What's up?"

She wasn't going to leave him alone now. He didn't want to tell her. She already had enough on her plate to think about without him to worry over.

It was probably worse if he didn't say a thing, though. He knew just how much she hated being confused. He felt the same way about the same thing. He would be a hypocrite to keep things from her. She deserved to know...

He rested his chin upon his paws again and wandered the depths of his mind, searching for the words. "Ashlyn... Do you blame me?"

"Huh?" She cocked her head. "W-what do you mean? For what?"

No, then. Even if she should've. She put him on too high a pedestal.

"H-have you been crying, Roland?" she asked. He didn't care to answer that question. She could already tell.

He looked into the watery depths churning by the prow of the ship again. "I-I brought us all to Shimmervale for no reason... Look how it turned out. I almost killed you all because I trusted someone again."

"I-I mean... I thought it was a good idea to go to Shimmervale, too. If you can pin the blame on yourself, then you can pin it on me as well." Ashlyn shrugged. "I-it was everyone's fault, Roland. We all made a mistake."

"Th-the only reason we went was because I thought it would be a better idea," Roland said. Ashlyn opened her mouth to say something, but she realised he was right, that she had been there just to follow him. "If I'd said no, then we would've kept going, and you know that. I should've just ignored Wren and kept going to Warfang; w-we wouldn't be in this mess. You treat me like a leader, but I'm the shittiest one of those there's ever been."

"I-I don't _care_ if you made a mistake or not. It happens. How were you supposed to know what to do?"

"I shouldn't have gone somewhere the fucking _Guardians_ were going. I should've known." Roland finally looked at her. His tongue was hesitant to let the words hovering in his mouth escape, but a few seconds later he spat them out. "You should hate me."

Ashlyn sighed. She was already sick of this conversation, Roland thought, just hearing the tone of her exhalation. "L-look, Roland, i-it doesn't matter. I don't care if you made a mistake."

"I almost _killed_ you."

"A-and I played a part in blowing up a city," Ashlyn argued. "W-which almost killed you. And killed a lot of people..."

Roland shook his head. "That's... That's not your–"

"It _is_... and you should know that." She glared a little at him. "Th-this... This is the problem with you, Roland. You treat things your friends do as forgivable, which is fine. It's a good trait to have, to be able to forgive. B-but then you treat everything you do as some kind of _grave mistake_. Y-you always do this. You bash yourself up a-and... I don't like it."

She inhaled. There was a hint of anger in her expression, feelings she was trying to keep locked away. She hated him for acting like this.

"You remind me of myself."

"I..." Roland stopped, the words catching in his throat. She was right about that. That he was always making his errors seem bigger than they were.

"Th-the point is, we all make mistakes," she continued. "Didn't you say that to Myrtle? Or does that not go for you? Are you a special case?"

Roland was beginning to realise his logic hadn't been so infallible. He was being a total hypocrite and letting others down because of it.

"L-look, I just... Just don't do this, Roland," the blue dragoness pleaded. "I-I know how you feel but you're wrong. I really like you, okay? If you could forgive me, I could forgive you for anything. Not that all of this is nearly as bad. And it was also still kind of on all of us..."

"I'm... I'm sorry." He looked down, back into the ocean. Now he just felt bad about trying to hurt himself earlier. He was being a moron.

With a paw, he wiped his eyes clear of that wetness. When he realised his paw was also wet and he'd just wiped a glob of blood over his face, he recoiled slightly and hastily rubbed it off with his leg. Ashlyn noticed before he could remove it.

"W-wait, why are you bleeding?" She shifted closer. She reached for his hidden paw with hers and pulled it up to have a look. Embarrassed, Roland looked in the other direction. "What did you do to yourself?"

"I... I got mad and punched the railing," he replied with a hint of annoyance at himself. "It still stings..."

"That's what woke me up, then..." Ashlyn reached into her satchel, dug around for a few moments, then pulled a cloth out of it. With a waterskin she'd tied around her neck, she drenched the rag. Once again, she grabbed his paw and wiped off the area he'd grazed his toes. Roland stood there, watching her worry over his injuries like she was some poor old nurse.

"Uh... Isn't that the rag you use to polish your ring?" Roland asked. Why would she dirty that one? Wasn't that and her ring special to her?

"...Y-yeah, but I don't have anything else on me. I can wash it later." She pulled something else out of her satchel, a small bandage roll. Roland frowned.

"I... don't think that's necessary." He chuckled softly. She was adamant about this, however. She wouldn't let go off his paw.

"It could get infected!" she exclaimed as she wrapped the wound up. "Y-you don't know what's been touching this boat!"

Now the urge to have a little fun with her surfaced. "You're adorable when you worry."

And so the expected reaction came. She tensed up, her mouth parting, words snared in her mouth.

"I-I, uh... Th-the others would do the same!" She shook her head. "I... N-no, I'm... I'm not–"

It made him crack a grin and laugh every single time. Something about his amusement seemed to stop her, though, and she just put on her own smile, realising his intentions. When he finished chortling, Roland let out a content sigh.

Here she was, helping him yet again, caring for him like he was something special to her. It was always her. She put up with his bullshit, could somehow swim through that and reach whatever good he had in him. She was something else...

He felt that temptation to say something about his feelings, but now wasn't a good time. They'd only just escaped from the clutches of the Guardians, and he still felt too angry at himself. He was only beginning to lose the adrenaline now. That, and he didn't think she would be all that interested. Not that he _really_ cared. It wasn't that important to him. A good friendship like hers was more than enough for him. If he couldn't get more, he wouldn't ask for it.

"Are you feeling okay after everything? Th-those Guardians..." Ashlyn coated her voice in a subtle venom. "Th-they made my blood boil. How could they do this to you? I saw the claw marks on your chest. And Myrtle also told me about what they were planning. The hooded cheetahs mentioned it. I-it... It makes me _sick_."

He'd totally forgotten the claw marks had even been there, but those had been healed up alongside his leg. Roland wasn't going to lie about how ill he felt just thinking about the plan, though. If Myrtle and Tristana hadn't known, then he probably wouldn't have told them what the Guardians were planning. Nor would he ever want to bring it up anyway; it was so disgusting that he couldn't bring himself to speak of it in specifics. It also just wasn't important now.

He nodded, cringing a little at the thought of Brenton's words. "I'm okay now after everything. A lot happened. I... I killed a guy, but, you know..."

"I-I know how it feels," Ashlyn said. "It's hard. I didn't know how to feel. I-I got used to it after a while, but it always felt _horrible._ Sometimes... we just don't have a choice, though. I'm glad you did it to someone who at least _deserved_ it."

Roland didn't think he'd ever wish death upon anybody at all – just the thought was cruel – but Brenton and the other Guardians were an exception. They were the lowest of the low, the scum, the filth of the Realms. They were truly wicked; Roland had never seen people so evil in his life before. That they'd even considered those horrible things in the circular chamber unnerved Roland.

He still didn't feel good having Brenton's blood on his claws, though. If he could've avoided it, he would've, but the Guardian _needed_ to die.

Silently, he thanked Garv for teaching him how to do it.

"There was one before that, you know," Roland started. Ashlyn looked up from the sea, her head tilted. "Back in Firemore. There was a dragon, a guy called Garv. He asked me to kill him. There was nothing I could do and I felt pressured, so I... I helped him out."

"I can imagine." Ashlyn nodded. Roland looked back down into the waters, his paws falling off the railing. "Sorry you had to go through that..."

"It's okay." He sighed. "I think we've all been through more than enough. We shouldn't have to be the ones to save the world from calamity, but here we are. I guess that does sort of entail going through a bunch of crap. This whole thing feels like something out of an adventure novel. But it's okay. As long as I've got you guys, I'm fine. We can do this. Then maybe the Ancestors will be kind and let us rest."

"Hopefully," she replied with a sanguine smile. She turned around and tapped his leg with her tail blade. He hadn't thought about it for a while, but her blade had grown back since the table had smashed it in Firemore. He'd never even realised... "Are you coming back to bed now? Y-you look a bit, uh... _dead_."

"I dunno if I can sleep." He didn't really think there was a point, either. Soon, everybody would be awake. He could wait an hour, resting in the amber sunrise.

"Maybe... Maybe I'll stay, then," she said. She put her paws up on the railing again. "I have a question, actually. When's your hatchday, Roland?"

"Uh... Fifteen days from now, I think?" He believed that was right. He wasn't too sure how long he'd been in locked in the chamber, but he doubted it'd been long. "Why do you ask?"

"No reason. I just wanted to know." Of course, that was a lie. There was more behind it than simply desiring knowledge.

"You're not getting me a present, are you?"

Ashlyn grinned a little. "Well... Maybe."

"I dunno what you'd get me now. We're not gonna be near any shops for a long time. Are you gonna draw me something?"

"Nope. I have something worth more."

"Uh... Is it money?"

"No. Th-that's a bit boring."

"Your love and affection?"

"No – wait, what?"

Roland laughed. "I have no clue, Ash."

"You'll _see_!" she said with a giggle. "I can't wait to see your reaction! I would've given it to you now, but now that I know it's coming up soon..."

"Aww, c'mon, Ash... You know how much I hate not knowing." He nudged her side. "Give me a hint, at least."

Ashlyn gave a teasing shake of the head. Roland kept trying to pursue information about this hatchday present, but she was unwilling to give clues. It was probably something he wouldn't ever suspect. Something that reminded him of her.

He definitely hadn't been expecting _her_. But whereas Roland usually abhorred surprises, she was one he was welcoming towards.

They chatted for what felt like hours, laughing and cracking jokes at each other, casually conversing. Ashlyn had this happiness about her he hadn't seen from her in a while. It'd been a little bit since they'd spoken like this, the last time back in the woods near Shimmervale. He wished they had time to do it more. She was a fun individual to have a chat with.

He was glad to have her here, sailing with them.

* * *

"How many rubs do you need?" Roland asked. Fluffy pressed into him further and further, harder and harder, until he knocked the red dragon over. He hunched down so his hairy body anchored Roland to the ground.

Roland grunted, then let out a peeved exhalation. He'd passed out that morning, speaking to Ashlyn, which he was thankful for, but any sleep he would've had was totally ruined by his dreadwing basically belly flopping on top of him only an hour later. Sure, maybe Roland had gotten himself quite hurt the previous day, had tangoed with death itself, but he didn't need this level of affection right now.

When he heard Myrtle snicker as she walked by, Roland thinned his eyes.

"Don't give me that look," she said. "Your fault for bringin' a dreadwing."

"Snugglewing would be a better n – F-Fluffy, that tickles!" His whole stomach jerked up as Fluffy rubbed his face along his belly. Roland laughed, his weakness identified. "S-s-stop! G-get him off!"

"Nah." Myrtle shrugged as she left him there, helpless and tortured. "I'd help, but I got things to do!"

"Things to do!?" Roland yelled after her. His answer never came. Roland hoped she'd be eternally cursed by the Ancestors for not assisting those in need. She had nothing to do at all; she'd only come to tease him.

He tried to push against his dreadwing, but his level of strength was minuscule when so starkly compared to his beast. "F-Fluffy, get up!"

The dreadwing was hesitant to move. When his flat snout twitched and he closed his eyes in some kind of acceptance, however, he fully relented. Roland folded his paws so they covered his belly. He looked up at Fluffy in loose amusement.

"Can I go and find the others now?" he asked. He crossed his paws so they protected his belly from further assault. Fluffy's tongue rolled out of his mouth; he made a face akin to a soundless sigh. Roland took that as a dubious 'fine.' "Thanks, bud."

He rolled onto his stomach, flared out his wings, and stretched his legs, careful not to press too hard on the paw he'd broken last night. It still hurt a bit and was swollen, making movement slightly more difficult, but he could manage.

After Fluffy lowered his head on instinct and Roland gave him a couple pats close to the forehead, the red dragon set out to find the others. Ashlyn had dozed off next to him last night in their lengthy conversation – he remembered the grin he had on his face when she suddenly started snoring – and he wished to find her, check on what she was up to. Or if he encountered Myrtle again, see what she had plans to do today.

Maybe he'd find Tris somewhere on board. He wouldn't have minded meeting up with her as well, but after last night, he was uncertain about speaking with her. The others were in a particularly decent mood, all things considered, but he couldn't imagine the same thing in her. No, she'd definitely been through the most.

Harper had come back for a split second only to perish on their way out. In the end, he had changed his ways. The thought made Roland feel bad about not being able to give him a proper funeral. He was lost to the waves now. They couldn't keep his body on board. They'd given Tris as much time as she needed with him to say goodbye, but they couldn't keep the corpse on board forever.

Just watching the way Tristana curled up into her bedroll broke Roland's heart, and it hurt even more knowing there wasn't anything he could do. She didn't need to be experiencing this. If anything, she was the one person that didn't need to be here. All their journey had caused her was pain and heartbreak. Sure, she'd made friends along the way, but this quest had ruined so much of her life that he wasn't sure if that in itself was worth it.

He felt an urge to check on her, see how she was doing, and so first he headed for the captain's quarters back up the steps to find her. He found Tris sat against the wall in the corner, rugged up in her sleeping bag. She studied the wooden boards. Myrtle had situated herself before her.

"Everythin' okay?" Myrtle asked, extending her paw toward the yellow dragoness. It landed where her shoulder was in the bedroll.

"I'm fine," she muttered, her tone breathy and weak. "I... Everything's okay."

"You just tell me if you want anything at all. I'll get it for you."

"Hey." Roland walked inside, introducing himself. Myrtle acknowledged his presence with a nod, but Tris continued to stare at the floor, her attention focused elsewhere. He stood by the doorway. He tried to think of a question to ask, something to spark a new conversation and get Tristana's mind off of Harper. Nothing came. Thankfully, Myrtle was there to save him this time.

"You're sportin' some new scars," she said. "Where'd you get those? I didn't see 'em last night."

He looked down upon his chest; three faded lines cut through his grey breast like he'd been maimed by the claws of some savage animal. And, well, maybe that was true. "Brenton, uh... kinda hurt me. He tied me to a platform, heated up his claws..."

"The fuck?" Myrtle frowned, her eyes narrowing. "You mean he... tortured you?"

"You could say that."

Myrtle screwed up her face in disgust. "Can't believe someone would do that to you, plan to do those things with us... I fucking hope he dies."

Roland scratched at the top of his head. He didn't really want to be reminded of last night, nor did he believe it was a thing he needed to share, but he'd told Ashlyn. It was probably okay if he brought it up to the others. "I... ripped out his throat. He's dead."

Myrtle's eyes widened in surprise. It took a few moments for the realisation to set in, but when it did, her features turned eerily serious. She lifted herself from Tristana's position and walked over to him. "Ancestors... Are _you_ alright, Roly?"

"I dunno how to feel," he said, looking towards the floor. "But don't worry about me. It's done and I can't change it. I just don't really wanna think about it."

"We've all been through a lot." She raised a leg and sat it on his shoulder, this time the side that hadn't been broken. She snaked it around the back of his neck in a sort of half-embrace. "Thank the fuckin' Ancestors we'll be out of this shit-storm soon."

"I couldn't ask for anything more." He nodded. "I don't really know how I'm getting Drevon back now, though. The time magic stuff was all a lie..."

"The original plan, Roly. Don't think the time magic stuff'll matter." Her smile was at the very least a little reassuring. "We'll talk him out of it just like before. He'll listen to us. We're his friends. Don't doubt that for one second. He loves you."

" _Loves_ me..." Roland grinned a little. "Pretty sure I'm only his friend."

"Well, I mean..." Myrtle laughed at her thoughts. Intrigued, Roland waited for her answer. She looked up again a few seconds later. "He did kinda have a crush on you. Just sayin'..."

"You're _hilarious_ ," he said with an almost disappointed scowl. He was merely jesting, of course.

"Oh, c'mon... It was _so_ obvious."

"Nah."

"Yeah."

"No."

"Yep, and if you keep sayin' no, I'll hurt you."

"You'd hit a cripple?" he asked, a slight laugh bursting from his mouth. There was a hint of nervousness in there somewhere.

"Yeah. But I also just hit people who disagree with me."

Roland opened his mouth to say something, but then he heard Tris giggling softly over near the wall. The sound brought with it immense joy; to hear, in her foul mood, a sound like that was nothing short of a miracle.

"You two are like a pair of kids," Tris said, wiping her eye off on her paw.

Like before when Ashlyn had said that, Myrtle and Roland replied in synchronisation with, "We _are_ kids."

Tris chuckled more. "Yeah, I guess..."

Myrtle turned around, full of relief, and took a step towards Tris, only to trip over Roland's paw and fall clumsily to the ground with a yelp. She thumped against the floorboards, the contents of her unbuckled satchel flying across the floor. Most of it was copper, but there was another object, an oddly shaped piece of yellow wood. It slid along the ground and stopped just at Tristana's feet. Roland realised it was a harp when he noticed the black strings, pulled taut and lining its ornate frame. It was patterned with swirls, ones that reminded him of the fluffy whites in the sky.

"Are you okay?" Tris asked. "And... is that a harp?"

Myrtle got up, her eyes bleeding fear. "I, uh... Y-yeah. It is..."

"Can you play it?" Tris got up and grabbed it off the floor. She studied its glistening frame. Her eyes twinkled.

"Um... A bit," Myrtle answered. "I... D-don't laugh, okay?"

"Why would I laugh!?" Tristana jumped up in excitement. "That's so cool! I had no idea you could play an instrument!"

Clearly, that wasn't been the response Myrtle had been expecting. She seemed relieved to hear it. "Well, I mean... I'm not that great. I just play for fun sometimes. I stole this one in Shimmervale because it looked good, but I haven't played in a while. I'd be a bit rusty."

"If there's ever been a time to boast, it's now." Roland was surprised to see her act like this. She was a masterful musician, yet it remained one of the only things she was humble about. "I've heard you play before. You're pretty damn good."

"Ooh, can she _sing_?" Tris butted in. She placed the glistening instrument into Myrtle's outstretched paw. "If you can sing..."

"Eh, I've... _dabbled_." Myrtle chuckled halfheartedly. She seemed a bit more confident now that Tris had responded to this news well. "Is there... anything you wanna hear? Guess now that you know I play, you'd wanna hear a song."

Tristana itched her chin for a few moments. She let out a quiet gasp as a recommendation came to mind. "Oh, can you play _Old Navy_? That's one of my favourites."

"Maybe. I do like that one a lot." Myrtle shrugged a little, fidgeting with the harp in her claws. "Doubt I can make it sound as good as Amberleene Walker, but I can give it a shot..."

"You're in for a treat," Roland muttered to Tris.

Myrtle didn't seem to hear as she sat upon her hind paws, her eyes closed, toes playing with the strings. She strummed a few resonant notes to get a feel for the instrument again. She cleared her throat and quivered like her nerves had been pulled to their tightest, setting the harp down next to herself.

And then she played. She was slow at first, strumming notes of a calibre so sombre. The old navy song, the aftermath of a fierce battle at sea, the oceans red but calm. A song of ships delving into the sea, their masters lost. Myrtle hummed quietly to herself, tracing the notes she played with her voice.

To Roland, it sounded like there were very few survivors. Something resembling hope seemed to come for those that survived, though, the tune picking up with grander chords. Quickly, it was lost, like the rescuers sailed straight past. Of lost hope and devastation, this song was. Finding joy, only to have it torn away. As the green dragoness finished, the notes quietened, the fate of the navy as though it were foretold. They were no more.

Myrtle seemed to stop shivering in fear when she looked upon Tristana's amazed expression. The yellow dragoness gaped, not expecting such a moving tone out of her. Roland sat back, his paws folded, impressed but knowing how much she was already capable of.

"That was... That was amazing!" Tris yelled, throwing her paws into the air, flaring her wings out. "Y-you nailed it! It was perfect!"

"Well, uh... I'm glad you liked it," Myrtle said with a grin. "Thought it was okay, but..."

Roland shook his head. "It was way better than 'okay,' Myrtle. You're a really good musician. I'd pay to listen to you play."

It seemed that comment surprised her by the way her maw dropped open. "You... You actually mean that?"

"Yeah!" He wasn't going to say no. She had serious potential, skill unlike anything he'd ever witnessed. She could become _famous_ for the masterful way she played. "I really would pay to see that. And I usually don't like spending money."

Myrtle didn't seem to know how to take that response for a second. Moments later, a confident smile barged the confusion and humble expression away. "Well, I'm glad you both liked it. Didn't think I'd actually impress you like that. Always wanted to be a musician."

"Maybe after this you can be!" Tris said. She looked like she wanted to bounce up and down, almost as if last night had never happened. Her sorrow had totally disappeared. For that, Roland was delighted. "You should've shown me earlier!"

"I would've, but it just never seemed like a... 'me' thing to do. Thought you might judge me for it. That, and I did kinda lose my harp back in Firemore."

"Oh, c'mon, Myrtle," Roland said, tone ridiculing. "We all know you aren't a tough girl. You're like an avocado."

Myrtle let out a puzzled snicker. "The fuck's that supposed to mean?"

"You're rough and ugly on the outside, but–"

Myrtle didn't hesitate to punch him in the chest. It wasn't as hard as usual, but it didn't lack the point she was trying to make.

"I was gonna say beautiful on the inside!" Roland staggered backwards, fearful of her next move. He smiled despite that. "Not that avocados are, like... that beautiful on the inside, either..."

"Die," the green dragoness said.

There came a round of laughter, a wave of cheeriness unexpected in these times. Even in this dire situation – even when they'd gone through this much trauma and pain – they could still manage a chuckle, and that made Roland beyond happy. Everyone was here for each other.

"Hello," a new voice spoke, the deep tone of the llama. "I'm glad to see you all in a good mood. We're in for a rough night tonight, so I'll be happy if we can keep that up."

"Rough night?" Roland asked. Alevor nodded.

"Aye. There's a storm on the horizon." Alevor pointed behind him, to the swarm of darkness lingering in the sky like a hoard of shadowspawn. It was in sharp contrast to the bright, cheerful blues around. "It's blowing this way. Definitely doesn't look good. I hope it goes away."

Tris looked fearful for a moment. "Will we be okay?"

"Of course." The atlawa nodded. "It'll probably just be a rough night of sleeping." He smacked the doorway with a hand. "My ship's been through far worse."

Roland knew everything would be okay in the end. Everyone here had been through far, far worse than this. That deep black swirl on the horizon didn't look like it was joking around, but that measly storm was nothing compared to everything else. Like Alevor said, it would probably be a night of inadequate sleep, and Roland didn't get enough of that to begin with, so it didn't really matter to him.

And after that storm, they'd soon be in Dante's Freezer, too. If they could've sped up the ship, they would've, but this boat wasn't particularly efficient with them. They had three small gemstones left and they were being saved in the event that somebody was injured. Alevor was doing things below deck to keep the ship moving forward, though, so it wasn't that important.

He hoped he'd find Drevon over there. And if not – if this was all a waste of time – his next destination would be the Mountain of Malefor. Even in spite of everything, he felt like he could trust Wren on that much.

He didn't want to have to go there. Hopefully all this would be fixed in the icy wastes. But if it came to that, he'd stop at nothing to get there.

* * *

When rain started to drum against the metal hull, Roland knew he wasn't getting any sleep. Even nestled against his dreadwing and snuggled up in the warmth of his bedroll, there was simply no chance. And so he listened to the dull metallic patter emerge, the muted splatter against the wooden deck, the literal calm before the storm.

He stared up into the roof, then to all of his friends who'd managed to fall asleep like normal dragons. He was kind of jealous that they'd figured it out so easily. _Myrtle_ was able to get to sleep, her maw wide open, short snores escaping her mouth. She was still off spirit gems and she could find a way to slumber. The swelling in her wings was beginning to ease off. She'd actually be able to fly soon.

Maybe Alevor was having trouble? Roland couldn't tell, though. He went to sleep elsewhere, probably in the bottom of the ship.

He wasn't sure why his body was making it so difficult for him to find comfort. Was it the nerves? The beat of his heart in his ears, just thinking about Drevon? Maybe it was just how scary this plan was. Roland had been sure he'd be able to revert Drevon back using time magic before and had tossed the other plan away, thinking it practically suicide, but now he had to opt for that again. He wasn't sure how much he trusted Myrtle that things would go smoothly anymore. Her ability to be reassuring was wearing off quicker than usual. But he believed in himself. He _had_ to do this.

By some miracle, he hoped Drevon would listen to him.

There came a flash that made him blink his eyes shut, and then several seconds later the distant crack of thunder came forth. It was like a threat, an instigation of aggression. That storm was about to bite.

Roland sighed lowly, rolling around a little bit. His dreadwing muttered something, some growl of confusion, but quietened down when the red dragon didn't respond.

Then, there came a quivering breath. If Roland hadn't been so perceptive, he wouldn't have known which direction it'd come from, let alone noticed it at all over the rain. He knew that tone and it'd come from Tristana's direction. He tried to listen for a moment more to learn if he was only imagining it and then it came again, a little louder now that his attention was fixed on her.

A low, muffled sob, a sharp inhalation of air. Roland felt his heart tighten in his chest, like it was clawing at his rib cage and drawing it closer. He wasn't sure if approaching was a good idea or not. He was too anxious about saying something wrong. He knew what this was about and knew it was an awfully touchy subject.

In the end, though, his curiosity and need to help got the better of him. As silently as he could, he removed himself from the bedroll. His dreadwing went to complain, but when Roland put a claw to his mouth, he made no noise. Fluffy seemed to hear her cries too after a while and even he looked like he wanted to get closer.

He tiptoed past Myrtle to the yellow dragoness facing the wall. He was hesitant to grab her attention. She sniffled, wiping her eyes, having not noticed him standing over her. He wasn't sure if he should even be doing this, or if she really needed the attention. Maybe it was better to respect her privacy...

He really couldn't help himself, though.

"Tris?" he whispered. She seemed startled as she rolled over. She probably thought everyone was asleep. "Are you alright?"

"...No," she replied after some time. "Did I wake you up?"

"Nah, I haven't been able to sleep at all." Roland shrugged. "Have you been able to sleep?"

"I haven't." She shook her head as she sat up. "D-did you want something?"

Roland didn't really know what to say. He felt like he was being a little too invasive. He wasn't sure why. He'd always done this to try and help people...

Maybe it was just because it was about Harper. This subject was harder than what usually dealt with.

"I just wanted to check on you." Roland sat before her.

"Don't worry about me," she said. "I'm j-just thinking..."

He wasn't certain how to continue this conversation or about what to say to her. Maybe he could've had a think about it before he headed over. It was probably a good idea to see if she actually wanted to have this discussion in the first place, though.

"Do you wanna chat about it?" Even if he wasn't totally sure what to say, he quietly hoped she would. As long as it would make her feel better, of course. If she wanted alone time then he'd give it to her without questioning it. He didn't want to say something wrong and upset her more.

Tris stayed quiet, considering it. It felt like a minute before she opened her mouth again to whisper.

"I just... I just miss him. For a second I-I had him back and he... h-he seemed fine. But right after he apologised... Why? W-why did he have to go like that?"

Tris craned her head. She sniffled.

"Why did she have to do that to him? It's... It's so unfair..."

"It really is." Roland nodded. Tris stopped laying and sat up, against the wall. Roland joined her on her side. She didn't bother unwrapping herself from the bedroll. "Life's just shit sometimes. It's been unfair to us all, especially you. You didn't need to come with us. You of all people should be happy."

"I feel like I need to help. I want to. I want to be with you three." Tris sighed, breath quivering like reeds to the wind. "I-I just wish I c-could've stopped that... that green _bitch_ before she got him."

Roland was taken aback to see her curse like that, but he understood and it wasn't like he'd chastise her for it. "I understand."

Then, he had a thought. He wasn't sure if it'd make her feel any better, but it was worth a shot. Maybe he could make her see that he understood and that everything was okay.

"I... lost my mum, you know?" he said. She seemed quite shocked to hear it. "I loved her with all my heart. I did run away from home because I couldn't deal with all the arguing my parents did, but I loved her. After I came back, though... She'd killed herself."

"I... I didn't know," she said. "I'm sorry about that..."

"You don't need to feel that way. It's been a long time. If my dad's still out there – I doubt he is – then I want him to know that I hate him for being the cause... That's not the point, though. I understand how it feels. It's really shit and there's nothing we can do about it. All I can do is be there for you like my friend was for me."

Seth had been there at one point, taking care of him when all that happened. They hadn't even known each other that long and yet he'd still tried his best. Times changed eventually, though, and he'd started doing those awful things.

He wished he could have the old Seth back. He wished Drevon hadn't killed him...

"That's... Thanks." She sniffed again, rubbing her eyes with her paws. "Sorry about... swearing before."

"Oh, c'mon, me and Myrtle swear _all_ the time. I don't give a shit." He chuckled softly. He saw the amusement on her expression and couldn't help but grin a little. "But yeah. I'm here if you just wanna talk to someone. I dunno if I can do much to help, but if there's anything you need..."

She lost what little happiness she had swiftly and fell once more into the depths of her mind.

Roland sighed. He raised a wing and draped it over her back in a loose embrace. Her muscles tensed up in surprise for a moment, but she quickly relaxed. Tristana sighed, sounding almost relieved, like his wing was lifting the iron weights off her shoulders.

"You're... bony. Unlike Myrtle," Tris murmured. Roland tried to stifle his laugh to keep everybody from waking up, but he failed at keeping it from escaping. Thankfully, nobody moved a muscle in response. She smiled a bit more, too.

"Do you remember me back in Firemore?" Roland asked. He still could; he'd been but a bag of bones painted red. He actually had some chub on his legs and belly now. "How unhealthy I looked?"

"Yeah, you look a lot better now. I would even say more attractive now that you have more muscle."

Roland didn't really agree with that, but he had to frown at her compliment either way. "I thought you were a lesbian?"

"Just because I'm not into guys doesn't mean I can't judge them," she said. She thoroughly enjoyed this random topic, and he could tell just by looking at the growing curl of her muzzle. "I only say so because _somebody_ seems to like you."

"I'm doubtful." Roland lifted his wing off her. She looked a little happier now. "Who?"

"You are _so_ oblivious!" Tris hissed. "Who else? Come on, Roland... _Ashlyn_ likes you!"

He shook his head profusely. That simply wasn't true. He wasn't good enough for that. "No, she doesn't. Why do you think that?"

"Just by the way she acts around you," she responded. "Plus, I've talked to her before. She told me herself. She... did tell me not to tell you that, but I can't handle you being so oblivious!"

Tris didn't seem like the kind of person to lie. He was shocked to hear it. Something about that just seemed so unreal. "Did she really say that?"

"Yes." She nodded. "You two are practically made for each other. You're both so cute. I just wonder if you like her that way. By the way you're talking it doesn't seem like you're that interested..."

He hesitated on his words, wondering if it was a horrible idea to trust Tristana with that information. She seemed like the kind to be unable to keep his secrets to herself, if what she'd just told him about Ashlyn was true.

What did it really matter, though? If they both felt something for each other, then it wouldn't make much of a difference if something was said. Maybe it'd even help out when the time came.

"I hope she isn't awake," he said, masking his voice as much as he feasibly could. "What if I said I did like her, though?"

Tris almost seemed to want to pump a fist, as though she was excited by that. "Then yay! You should ask her out."

"I... think it might be better to wait a little while first." He chuckled, a hint of anxiety in his tone. It hadn't been long enough yet. It didn't seem like the right direction right now, what with only the month they'd known each other. They'd become very quick friends in that amount of time, but Roland was unsure if a stronger relationship could spawn from that at this moment.

"I have seen people find love quicker..." Tris shrugged. "But I understand you, Roland. That's really the only thing stopping me from asking Myrtle. I love everything about her. She's been there for me every step of the way, always makes me laugh, is a surprisingly huggable... She's basically _perfect_. But it doesn't feel like it's been long enough yet. I know she feels the same way about me, but she probably thinks the same thing. I want to give it more time first."

Tris suddenly seemed embarrassed that she'd just revealed all of that in front of him. It was obvious there was an attraction to him, though. Roland wasn't _that_ blind to love. Maybe he hadn't been able to see Ashlyn feeling anything for him, but that was just his moronic mind at work, loathing himself on instinct. He knew he needed to stop that stuff.

A flickering light flashed in the captain's quarters and, not even a second after it, came the crackling boom of thunder. A bolt of lightning struck the ocean, one that reminded Roland of the power Tris held inside herself, thoughts of last night resurfacing.

He winced at the noise of rain pouring in torrents, hammering at the hull, the storm's onslaught having begun. Tris looked through the doorway as yet another streak of lightning sliced through the air and formed a spider-like web of unbridled energy.

"It's getting pretty bad..." Roland muttered, though he didn't believe Tris heard him over the noise. Yet another clap of thunder and this one seemed far closer. Myrtle shot up in an instant, and Ashlyn blinked her gaze open.

The two dragonesses peered wildly at their surroundings, trying to make sense of the world, when the boat lurched and everybody lost balance. Tristana tumbled into Roland, knocking them both over. Myrtle and Ashlyn tripped. Even Fluffy, with those powerful legs of his, couldn't keep himself upright.

"Ow..." Myrtle said as she got up, only for the ship to stagger upwards. Everybody fell forward. Roland tried to reach for something to grab and his paw landed on a handle on the engine. Everyone had the same idea, except for Fluffy, who seemed to have no clue what to do other than rush towards Roland.

Suddenly, Alevor burst through the doorway, grasping the metal to keep his balance. His white fur was matted and sopping. "I might need to steer this thing! It's gonna be a rough ri–"

A deafening blast of power cut him off. Sparks burst from the engine Roland was holding onto; he was quick to remove his paw and leap away, incredibly lucky to not get fried. He fell into Fluffy. Then came another. By some cruel, twisted miracle, it slammed into the deck, roaring and creating a hole through the wood and the metal hull

"We–" Alevor didn't get any further than that when he was knocked over. Roland caught a glimpse of the world outside, to the waves growing larger and larger, colossi in their own right. The first of many smashed into the ship, ripping apart the railings and ruining the wood, as though they'd never been fastened to the ship in the first place.

Roland stumbled out the doorway, just barely managing to keep himself from falling over the edge into the monstrous depths below. He scrambled backwards in a panic, but before he could get back inside, a surging wave of water smacked into the ship again, thrusting him into the ocean. His name was screamed, but it was lost to the violent, gurgling water in his ears.

His first mistake was to try and breathe. He inhaled water, salt stinging at his mouth, his lungs topped off with fluid. His chest throbbed. While retching and only managing to push more water into his system, he reached forward, almost to pull himself back to the surface so he could vomit up the contents of his lungs. He had no clue where the ship had gone; all senses were lost to the sea, just like Harper.

And then it came back. He didn't see it coming.

He felt a burst of pain in his head, heard the metal hull ring out. Something heavy splashed in the water beside him – a scream rang out – but very quickly everything was lost.

He fell, descending forever.


	38. A Final Update (kinda important i guess)

A Final Update

Hey, all. It's been a while, hasn't it? These past few months have been really busy and weird, and I've been doing a whole lot of thinking about what I want out of writing now. Writing Spyro fanfiction has become stale for me and I've kinda lost interest in the world and lore. I used to be very happy with my current story, Of the Stolen. I thought it was the best thing I'd written on this site, and I still do; it's definitely my best posted thing and it's also my most completed work. But times have changed and so has how I feel, and at this point I'm pretty decided on what direction I want to go.

I think it's time for me to leave writing fanfiction behind. I've put a lot of thought into this decision. I haven't fallen out of love with writing in its entirety – I still love writing! But FanFiction isn't the place I want to take it anymore. Which means Of the Stolen is, yes, never going to be finished.

You might be asking why my feelings on Of the Stolen have changed, and it's mostly because it's been taken in a direction I don't really adore. There's so many things I'd change about it now – especially the introduction, that thing is fuckin' huge and I hate it – and I just can't see myself getting around to it. I don't like where it is now, I don't really like how it's going to end, and there is no feasible way of fixing it without doing a ton of rewriting, which I could not be bothered doing anymore. I've fallen out of love with my characters, the world, the lore, everything about the story.

Also I hate how long it is lol. I'm tired of writing huge stories, and I'd rather write shorter things now, closer to actual novel length. It's stupid how long OtS has gotten, and I still had 50-70k words to write, and I don't really care to do it.

Now, if Of the Stolen is never going to be finished than how was it actually going to end? Well, a lot of is unclear, but I have the basic idea.

After Roland and crew fall into the ocean and almost drown, Roland wakes up in Dante's Freezer, and later finds Ashlyn and Fluffy. They can't find Myrtle and Tristana, so they settle down for the night in an icy cave, and later see Drevon trying to free the next wyvern. Roland goes to confront him, quickly proceeds to fail, and then gets his leg torn off (yes, very brutal).

He wakes up in an old abandoned dragon temple a week later with Ashlyn, Fluffy, and Myrtle at his side, and basically goes super depressed for a whole arc. He meets his father again, hates him, but eventually learns to love him again. Myrtle runs away about halfway through the arc to go and find Tris, who's out in Dante's Freezer succumbing to her own mind. Roland learns more about his time powers and how to stop Drevon, and he and Ashlyn also fall in love with each other.

What's the deal with Fluffy, you might ask? Essentially, one of the last of the apes who was also Roland's dad's friend sent five dreadwings out to find Roland. Four of them died, and one survived, Bone Grinder, who Roland eventually started calling Fluffy instead. Roland's dad knew how the city would be destroyed and wanted to save his son through any means necessary. He had weird prophetic visions and shit and it didn't really make much sense, but let's roll with it, 'kay?

Eventually, Alevor would repair the boat (yes, he's there, too) and Roland and Ashlyn would sail to the Mountain of Malefor, where Roland would experience the final vision. He and Ashlyn would spend one last night together before Roland runs off by himself when Ashlyn's asleep to go and face Drevon alone. Roland would almost be killed by Drevon, but would freeze him inside of a time crystal for the rest of the eternity just before he dies, with Ashlyn unable to stop him before he does.

In the epilogue, Ashlyn would finish off a picture she was drawing of Roland. He asked for it on his birthday, and she didn't get far into drawing it when they realised they were in love with each other and put their foreheads together like lions (yes, they don't kiss. Dragons can't do that, it's physically impossible, LOOK AT THE SHAPE OF THEIR MUZZLES AAAAAAAAAAAAAAA)

Anyway, Ashlyn finishes off the picture, cries with Fluffy at her side, and that's how the story ends. But what happens to Myrtle and Tristana? They either escape Dante's Freezer after also falling in love, or they both freeze in a blizzard together. Kinda depressing, I know, but oh well.

I know that wasn't really as satisfying as it could've been, and I feel pretty bad ending it this way – I ended the original story, Dragon's Ruin, in almost the same fashion, too. But I can't finish it at this point. It's only now that I realise where I did end it was pretty funny; Roland falls into the ocean, drowns, and it just ends. What a great way to end the story. So satisfying. Good job, Demi.

I do want to thank you all for reading it, though, every single one of you, and especially you people that reviewed. You inspired me to push this far and I couldn't have done it without you. And I need to give a huge thank you to River as well, who edited this story, put up with me through all my moments, and became my best friend in the process. You've been great. Love ya, Riv.

Oh, yeah, I won't forget you, Foxy. You're cool too, I guess :P

Well, that's enough about my story. What now? What about _me_?

I'm not leaving FanFiction, totally. All my works are still gonna be up and I'll still stick around on the site. I still like reading fanfiction, so I'll be here to do that. And I'll always be around if you wanna talk or anything, just send me a PM.

I can't really bring myself to leave it all entirely. Fanfiction's been a huge part of my life, and it's the reason I have what I do today, the reason I have any friends at all basically. So I won't leave for _real_. I'm just not gonna write anything for it anymore. I mean, I _might_ get an idea suddenly that I wanna write, but it's alright. No more big stories. Maybe a tiny thing once every, like... ten years lol.

For now, I'm moving onto original works, where I can create my own lore and worlds and everything (I mean, I already did kind of do that with my stories around here; the Spyro lore is full of holes and it sucks lol). I hope you've enjoyed what you've found on my profile, even if I think it's all just kinda meh. I'll see you around if you wanna chat or something, but other than that, I guess this is goodbye. Sorry about the big ramble; I couldn't be bothered composing my thoughts, so I hope this is comprehensible enough lol.

Thanks for reading, and good luck with your own writing!

-Demi


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